Lost
by Riverstyxx
Summary: Cynder searches for Spyro.
1. Journey's End

**Lost**

_I wandered for so long, always wanting to know, "Where are you?"_

_I suppose I forgot to wonder, "Where am I?"_

**1**

**Journey's End**

The wastes of the northern tundra are a cruel and unforgiving landscape. Harsh winds skim over frosted earth, their touch like knives that bite deep to the bone. Against the unrelenting cold, a thick snow coat is all that protects the creatures that dwell in this place. I have no such luxury.

My scales are cold and thin, and offer no protection from the freezing winds. Were it not for the heavy cowl about my head and shoulders, I would have no doubt frozen long ago. This is not a place for dragons. Sleet crunches under my paws, long since numb, and the wind howls in my ears. Through the haze of white that hangs about my head, a huge dark shape looms: a building of roughly hewn stone and frosted glass.

Salvation.

The door groans as I press my shoulder to its cold stone face and heave my bodyweight into it. With an awful bone-jarring scrape, it swings inwards. A rush of warm air strikes my face and I halt for a moment in the threshold, relishing the heat. It's like stepping into a hot spring for the first time. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the dim lighting inside the building; the white world outside had almost blinded me. There are faces staring back at me from all around the room. None of them are dragons.

I step forward into the warmth and heave the stone door back into place. The howling of the wind outside abruptly lessens, and a quiet crackling sound makes itself known. It's coming from a fireplace against the left wall, where a figure sits behind a low stone bench. The stone shelves behind him are stacked with bowls and cups, all hewn from rock. In the middle of the fireplace, orange flames lick at the edges of a stone cauldron. As I draw closer, I can hear a low bubbling sound within.

The figure at the bench is watching me. He has pulled back his hood, revealing pointed ears and stark white fur on a sharp muzzle. It's the first time I have seen a tundra fox, but he is exactly as I had imagined. Only his eyes surprise me. They are like liquid darkness, as black as my scales and twice as lustrous.

"We don't get many dragons around these parts," he says as I approach.

I offer him no answer and instead seat myself upon the circular cushion placed on the other side of the bench. It's warm and plush, and I cannot help but let my body sag with exhaustion. The fox shifts across from me, and within moments there is a stone bowl on the bench in front of me. Steam rises from the murky liquid within, and the scent assures me it is tea long before I try to taste.

It has been too long since I last had a warm drink, but I know better than to drink immediately. Too many scorched tongues have taught me that lesson. I gaze instead at the glass windows across the room, frosted with sleet and snow. I can see the blizzard picking up outside, and the hazy sky slowly darkening. But I see also a reflection staring back at me, and I cannot help but wonder when the last time was that I saw it.

The face that stares back at me has changed in many ways. The dark scales, once glossy and full of shine, are flat and lustreless. The muzzle has lengthened and sharpened, as have the white horns now scarred and weathered by travel. But it is my eyes that have changed most. In them I see a dragon who has wandered for too long and found nought that she searched for. In them, I see a weary traveller who has seen more than she ever bargained for. In them, I see a wanderer who wishes only that her journey would come to an end.

"There's a story in your eyes," says the fox.

I glance over to him, half surprised. Many bartenders give up once their first attempt at conversation is met with silence. It seems he is not one of them. His eyes seem to shine with curiosity, and as soon as I meet them I am held like a prisoner.

"You see it a lot in travellers," he continues, resting his arm on the bench. "You have the mark of one. Not just because you don't belong in these parts, nay. I can tell a wanderer when I see one. It's all there on your face; in your stance; in your eyes. You've travelled a long way."

I wonder if he expects an answer, but what does one answer to that? I know at once that he must have seen many travellers in his time. It's as though he has seen right through me. Or perhaps he is right, and it is all written on my face—a story etched in scars. Perhaps a simple nod will suffice.

He smiles as though my nod was an invitation. "I've seen a lot of travellers pass through here. Some will tell their story at the drop of a hat, and others never speak a word. So then, which will you be?"

"You want to hear my story?" My voice sounds hoarse to my ears. It's been some time since I last used it, and my throat feels as though it has gone numb, just like my frozen paws. I take a sip of tea to sooth it, and relish the warmth it provides. It really has been too long.

"If you'll tell it," says the fox.

I consider him in silence, and ponder. It's not a story I have told yet, and some part of me never expected to tell it. "It's a long story."

"We have time." He gestures to the frosted windows, where the world outside is no longer as blinding bright as before. "The evening is still young, and only fools who wish to die traverse the Wastes at night."

My jaw tightens almost of its own accord and I look away. There is more to his words than what the naked ear can perceive, but I hear it as clear as if it were spoken aloud.

_'You won't be leaving until morning,'_ it says, _'whether you like it or not.'_

I pull the bowl closer, cradling it between my paws and letting the warmth of the tea seep into my frozen scales. It will be cold long before I finish my tale, but for now it is a comforting heat. There is no reason, after all, not to tell my story. I have come so far, weary and tired, and the end of the road is in sight. There is no better time to sit and reminisce before I reach it, whatever I may find there.

"Alright," I say, and this time my voice is clearer. "But we may be here until dawn."

"It wouldn't be the first time," he says, resting his cheek in his paw, never taking his eyes from mine.

But I look away, and my gaze comes to rest on the alien reflection in the glass. She stares back, daring me to remember what she once was. "It begins in the far reaches of the southern isles, where a naïve young dragoness awakens to find herself lost and alone…"


	2. Wake

**A/N: Gosh, you guys, so much praise. This is supposed to just be a simple writing exercise. xD For those hoping for long, substantial chapters, you will be disappointed. They'll all be around this length. But to make it up to you, I'll update every day. That's essentially the point of this story: to keep me writing every day. And to practice with first person perspective.**

**This will be the only author's note until the end of the story, whenever that may be. So, for the first and probably second last time, thanks for reading! I'll try to reply to all reviews. Love you guys. :]**

**Happy reading~**

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**2**

**Wake**

Cold.

It was the first thing I became aware of—a chilling tongue of wind against my flank, enough to make me shiver and curl up tighter. Something loose and gritty shifted under my chin, and somewhere close to my head I heard the steady swish of water. My eyes opened and I breathed in a gasp of air. Salt. I could taste it on the wind. It was a moment before my eyes adjusted to the light, but when the glare faded, the first thing I saw was blue.

The ocean. It stretched out before me as far as the eye could see, and there it met with the pale sky in a line as straight and sharp as the edge of a blade. The waves lapped at the sand near my paws, a steady rhythmic swish that mingled with the whistling wind. I took another rattling breath, tasting the air, and cast my gaze across the beach. The sand was flat, white, and unmarred. Tangled bushland rose at its edge, strange and unfamiliar.

It was not a place I knew or had ever known. Slowly, I pushed up from the sand. My legs were weak and they trembled as I got to my paws, and for a while I simply stood there. There was a fog about my mind, the kind that leaves one wondering whether they are dreaming or awake. All of my memories felt far away and unimportant as I watched the waves licking at the sand. It was a serenity that was not to last.

Fear.

It hit me like a wave and almost forced me off my feet, but I stood rigid as ice filtered through my veins. Spyro. Something awful had happened to him. My mind struggled to catch up to the sudden rush of memory. Images skipped through my head faster than I could follow—Spyro, Malefor, the Destroyer, fire, death, light. _Spyro_.

What had he done? I remembered the light that had poured from him in waves as he had spread his wings and lifted from the ground. I remembered the rush of searing heat that had engulfed me seconds later, and the fear that had caused me to call out three words I wasn't sure I'd meant. A shudder passed over my body, from the top of my head to the tip of my tail.

That didn't matter now. Where was Spyro? Was he hurt?

I couldn't wrap my head around what he'd done, but I'd felt the power that had streamed out of his body, and I knew it couldn't have meant anything good for him. The beach was void of life whichever way I looked. I spun around and was faced by bushland, thick and wild, but no sign of Spyro. He wasn't there. Fear constricted my chest, and my breath stopped.

"Spyro?" My voice cracked unpleasantly, and a dull burn throbbed in my throat. I cleared it softly and drew in a breath. "Spyro?"

The cold wind wrenched my words away, and I stood alone without an answer. Spyro wasn't there. But he had to be somewhere, and I knew only one thing—I had to find him. Until I did, nothing and no one else mattered. I had made a promise to protect him, and he was the only friend I had. Whatever he'd done, whatever had happened to him, wherever he was, I had to find him.

Set with conviction, I surveyed the bushland once more and turned back to the beach. The sand crunched and shifted under my paws, but with every step my legs grew stronger and steadier. I searched the beach slowly at first, until my paws found the sturdier wet sand where the waves had been. From there, I picked up the pace until I was almost running. The sand flew up around my paws and flecked my legs, and the salty wind stung my eyes.

Spyro had to be there somewhere. His purple scales would surely give him away, but all I saw was white, green and blue. A shape loomed ahead of me, limp on the sand, and a mixture of excitement and fear coursed through my veins. But as I drew closer, I saw that it was not a body but a decaying log that the waves had washed ashore. I turned it over with my paw, and a tiny crab scuttled out of its shadow and into the loose sand.

With a sigh, I let the log fall back into its place and continued on. The wind seemed to get colder the longer I walked, and as I gazed out over the ocean I saw numerous islands dotting the water. Some were far off on the horizon, and others were close enough that I could make out shrubs and bushland on the beach. None of them showed any sign of life.

Eventually, I found myself staring at the remnants of a pawprint in the sand that the tide had almost washed away. For a wild moment, I thought it belonged to Spyro—until I realised it was mine. I had circled this entire island, and was back where I'd started. Spyro was nowhere to be found.

I sat down in the damp sand and stared over the ocean, allowing my aching legs to rest. Nothing made sense. How had I got there? I'd been in the core of the world with Spyro only moments before—at least, it felt like only moments before. Perhaps it had been hours, or days, or even weeks. But there was nothing to explain how I had ended up there, on a tiny isle in the middle of the ocean. Nor was there anything to explain why Spyro was not there with me.

We had been together in those final moments—close enough that I could have reached out and touched him. And then I was there, and he was gone. I couldn't understand. What had he done? The world had been breaking apart, and yet there I stood on an island that looked as though it had never even been touched by civilisation. It didn't look like the end of the world at all.

"What did you do?" I whispered, and the wind stole my words away. "Where are you?"

I licked my lips and tasted salt, and a sudden spark of determination flared in my chest. I stood up again and spread my wings, easing them open until they reached their full span. The membranes crackled softly as they spread apart, but the cool wind soothed them and I breathed deep as they fluttered in the breeze. It was as though I had never fought Malefor. The aches and wounds were gone, and I felt only a sense of mild fatigue in the wake of a battle that could have cost my life.

Whatever Spyro had done, he hadn't only fixed the world. I could only hope that, somehow, he'd fixed himself too.

I closed my eyes, let out a cleansing sigh, and opened them again. I was not one to sit and wonder for too long. He was relying on me, wherever he was, and I wouldn't allow myself to let him down. No matter where it took me, I knew what I had to do.

"Spyro. I'll find you."


	3. Southern Isles

***small amendment to my last A/N: I'll reply to every review I can form a cohesive reply to without just repeating myself. xD**

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**3**

**Southern Isles**

It was only upon taking flight that I saw how daunting my task was to be. My wings ached as I forced them to carry me higher, above the sea, above the isles, towards the wispy clouds that painted the sky in lazy brush-strokes. Blue spread below me in all directions, and countless islands formed a green and white patchwork all the way to the northern horizon.

As I winged higher, relishing the wind on my scales, a distant shadow on that horizon became steadily visible. Was it the promise of a more substantial landmass, or merely another set of islands? With the thrum of my wing beats and the roar of wind in my ears, I turned a sharp circle, squinting against the glare of the sun hanging low in the east. To the south, there was only water as far as the eye could see.

It was too obvious where I had to go. As much as the distant shadow on the northern horizon was tempting, I couldn't risk skipping past the many isles. Spyro could have been down there on any one of them, and there was no guarantee that he would see me even if I flew overhead. Confident now that I had a direction, I turned away from the south and shot over the tiny isle I'd woken up on. Even from this height, I could tell the sparse bushland there was void of life.

A swift flight took me over a thin stretch of water to a larger island with thicker greenery. I circled it slowly, peering down at the sand as I sank ever lower in the sky. But no purple stood out from the white of the beach, and with steady wing beats I landed at the edge of the bushland. My paws hit the sand more heavily than I intended, and I stumbled as grit flew up around me. Then, with a swift glance behind to assure myself there was nothing on the beach, I slipped into the wild tangle of undergrowth.

The plants there were dry and scratchy, more yellow than green. My paws crunched through sandy soil littered with natural debris, and I ducked and weaved around the tangled, spiny bushes. No matter where I looked, there was no purple—and nothing to suggest that anything lived there at all. Once, I saw a tiny lizard no bigger than my claw scuttle along a fallen branch, and in the distant I heard sea birds calling, but of sentient life the island was abandoned.

It wasn't long before I moved on, disheartened but far from giving up. The next island I landed at offered nothing more—nothing but tiny insects and lizards—and the following three were just the same. On the sixth isle, I at last paused to rest and gather my bearings. There was a tiny stream that trickled from within the bushland, down the beach and into the waves, and there I sat and cooled my aching paws. The ocean breeze hadn't lessened at all, but the sun was nearing its peak in the sky and an unbearable heat was making itself known.

I was boiling in my scales. For once, I wished I wasn't so dark-scaled; they seemed to soak up the heat. I had never really spent time near the ocean before, at least not like I was then. It was a strangely lonely place, where the world was so open and empty, and only the wind and the waves were there to break the silence. If only Spyro had been there; perhaps I wouldn't have felt so lost and alone.

I could only hope that there would be a sign of him at the next isle, or perhaps the next, or the one after that. It didn't matter, as long as I found something eventually that would lead me to him. Sooner or later, I had to find him. He couldn't have just disappeared off the face of the realms.

It was some time later that I finally peeled myself off the ground and spread my wings again. They cast reddish shadows across the sand as the midday sun shone through their membranes, and I paused for a moment, surprised by that shadow. It was so clear against the sand that I could even see the line of my horns arching from the back of my head. I looked almost…regal. That shadow reminded me of something—something from the past that I'd long since tried to banish to the far corners of my mind.

When had I started looking like her again? I'd never really noticed upon waking from crystallised sleep, preoccupied as I'd been with the war we'd been so suddenly thrust into. But the shadow that spread across the sand before me was not the short, stubby shadow I'd become used to in the months at the Dragon Temple before the Night of Eternal Darkness. It was _her_ shadow.

I wasn't her any longer; Spyro had made sure of that. I had promised myself when we'd awoken from our three-year slumber that I would hide away those memories of her—of what I'd been once. He needed a companion—someone to rely on when all the realms relied on him—and that companion was me. It was only right that I pushed by own problems aside.

And until I found him again, there they would stay. I could not afford to brood while he was lost.

"Get a grip on yourself, Cynder." I swiped the sand with a paw, but it did nothing to sway the shadow. Instead, I turned my eyes to the ocean and took a running leap into the air. The wind caught my wings and, with a few deft flaps, I soared high above the isles once more.


	4. Drifter

**4**

**Drifter**

As the sun began it's descent to the western horizon and my search continued to prove fruitless, I became aware of a gnawing hollow in my stomach. When was the last time I'd eaten? I dipped lower to scan the sea, still and calm. In the light of early afternoon, the waters were almost as bright blue as the sky.

I circled around the cluster of islands below, seeking prey of any kind. The sea was so clear I could see straight to the sand in the shallows around the isles, but of fish or other sea-life there was nought. My stomach growled in protest and I sank even lower towards the sea, looking for telltale shadows below the gentle waves. When nothing presented itself, I considered landing on the largest nearby isle to search for food on foot. But as I circled around to start my descent, something caught my eye.

In the shallows at the edge of a little isle a short flight away was a small dark shape. From above it looked as tiny as an ant, but I knew immediately it was bigger than any regular fish. Whatever it was, it was going to be lunch. With a heavy beat of my wings, I swerved in the air and shot towards it.

Down, straight as an arrow, I dived, claws extended. The sea loomed up to meet me, and I saw the unusual shape of the shadow seconds before I collided with it. Water flared around me as my claws struck something hard as stone instead of soft like flesh. I had no time for the cry of surprise that rose in my throat before momentum tipped me tail-over-horns and I was engulfed by water. It filled my eyes with a stinging burn and I took a great gulp of seawater that I hadn't intended to.

Panicked, I thrashed until my hind legs found sand, and pushed upwards. My head broke the surface in a glistening spray. I coughed furiously, retching water that I had almost inhaled. Half-blinded by the stinging salt in my eyes, I took a great rasping breath. Relief swept through me as sweet oxygen flowed back into my lungs. It was only then that I realised I was standing on the sand and my head was still above the water. The waves settled around the middle of my neck, licking at the metal choker there.

Coughing the last of the foul-tasting water from my mouth, I glanced around in confusion. Where was the prey I had been hunting? A dark shape caught the corner of my eye, and I spun around in alarm. The thing I had tried to prey upon was floating nearby, everything but the shiny dome of its back submerged beneath the water. It was vaguely round in shape, and about half as wide as the length of my body.

Wary, I turned towards it, the water making my moves sluggish. I felt vulnerable there, neck-deep in water—this creature's habitat, whatever it was. But the creature didn't move at first, and I took a small step closer, squinting at the hump of its back. It looked shiny and hard, like a shell. Through the glare of the sun that glinted off it, I could see it was a dark shade of green.

Before I could take another step, the creature's head lifted above the surface. I froze. Water coursed from its streamlined head, which was attached to its shell-like body by a short thick neck. It blinked tiny beetle-black eyes and stared straight at me. Then its wrinkled beak-like mouth curled into what was unmistakeably a smile.

"Pleasant swim?" said the creature in a voice that recalled images of deep lakes and bottomless chasms.

For a moment, I could only stare. There were so many things wrong with those two simple words that I simply couldn't wrap my head around it. Firstly, the creature I had intended to eat was talking to me. Secondly, it looked nothing like any sentient creature I had ever seen before. Thirdly, it seemed entirely unconcerned that it had almost become my lunch. Unconcerned, or criminally oblivious—I couldn't tell which.

The creature moved slowly, lifting four slim flippers through the water and drifting closer to me. I remained still, too startled to move and unsure whether or not to feel threatened. But nothing about the creature suggested it was remotely dangerous—least of all the serene wrinkled smile on its face.

"It's a nice day to be lost, no?"

I stared. "What?"

It craned its snake-like head up towards me as it came to a floating stop in front of my chest. It seemed bigger close up. "Who lost you?"

At this point, I assumed that this creature was quite mad. Instead of answering his questions—what was I supposed to say to that, anyway?—I considered his unusual appearance. He was like a lizard inside a shell with flippers instead of legs—at least, that was the best comparison I could make. I couldn't help but ask the question, rude or not. "I'm sorry, but what are you?"

"Hmm?" The sea-creature began to drift lazily to the side, his head tilting as though in thought. "Me? Well… I suppose I am a drifter."

"A drifter?"

"Oh yes. I drift with the tides, wherever it takes me. Back and forth, back and forth." He swung his head side to side as he spoke, his expression never changing.

I frowned. It seemed sensible answers were not to be wrought from this creature. "Right. But what _are_ you, exactly?"

The 'drifter' stared at me, unblinking, for long enough that it started to make me uncomfortable. "A drifter."

I suppressed a sigh and looked away. My scales were quickly becoming cold in the water, and I started turning towards the nearby beach when a thought struck me. It was a long shot—and I'd yet to get any words that made sense out of this creature—but it was worth a try. I glanced back at him. "I wonder if you could help me. I'm looking for someone, see."

"The one who lost you?" The drifter floated closer again, his expression still stuck in that same infuriating serenity.

"I… Well, yes, I suppose so." I supposed that, if he was going to be like that, I would have to humour him. "He's a dragon like me, a little bigger with bright purple scales. Have you seen anyone like that?"

Again, the drifter stared at me, his beetle-black eyes unblinking, as though he had turned to stone. I shifted uncomfortably as the seconds trickled by and hoped my bracers weren't rusting in the salty water. Then, at last, he spoke. "Dragons don't like the isles. You'll only find them on the mainland."

I frowned. "Okay, but… My friend and I are lost. We're not here by choice. Have you seen him at all?"

He stared at me again for a long time, and I was starting to lose my patience. Maybe I shouldn't have even tried to ask. The drifter was clearly on another plane of existence entirely.

"Dragons do not come to the isles."

It took all of my will not to take a swipe at him then and there. I clenched my teeth together and tried my hardest not to glare, and the drifter stared back with nary a change in expression. As my simmering temper slowly cooled, I noticed something I hadn't seen before. The back of his shell was marred with so many scratches it was impossible to count them. Little white lines criss-crossed the shiny green surface like an intricate spider web, catching and holding tiny droplets of seawater that glistened in the sunlight. Despite myself, I suddenly felt guilty.

"I guess not, then." I turned away and started up to the beach, picking my way slowly through the water. My scales had surely wrinkled up by then.

To my surprise, I found the drifter floating alongside me as I headed for shore. He swam gracefully, pulling and pushing his flippers through the sea, and seemed to glide as though in air rather than water. At first he was silent, but then… "There are dragons on the mainland."

I gave him my most withering look, but he didn't seem to notice. "Thanks."

Water streamed off my scales as I pulled myself from the sea and onto the beach. The sudden wind chill made me shiver, and I hugged my wings to my flanks as I looked around. The isle was just as deserted as all of the others I had searched. Maybe Spyro wasn't there at all. Maybe I was alone.

"You will be found," said the drifter, and I turned to find him floating in the shallows behind me. The bottom of his shell scraped against the sand with every pull of the tide, but he didn't seem bothered. "The lost are always found in time."

I stared hard at him for some time until I realised the tide was beginning to pull him back out. I wanted to tell him I wasn't lost, that I was only searching for someone, but the words wouldn't come. He waved a flipper as the waves pulled him out into deeper waters, but I made no move to respond. Then, just like that, he drifted away on the tide and ducked beneath the waves, and I was alone again.


	5. First Night

**5**

**First Night**

Night seemed in no hurry to arrive. Exhaustion hit long before the sun turned the sky red and orange, and when my tired wings threatened to dip me straight into the ocean I knew it was time to stop. The island I chose was a particularly large one with a great tangle of untamed bushland. I hit the sand with a heavy thud that sent it flying in all directions, and almost collapsed then and there. But, tired as I was, I couldn't rest until I'd searched that island too.

My search took me through the tangle of bush, where I found nothing but insects and the occasional crab, and to the opposite side of the isle. Spyro was, as usual, nowhere to be found. At last, I gave in to the persistent exhaustion and sat down in the sand. It was cooler than it had been during the heat of the day, but still warm with the memory of the midday sun.

The ocean spread out before me, dotted with a sparse scattering of isles. On the horizon, the dark smudge I'd noticed hours ago had grown larger, and I could make out the distant haze of green. It was far too large to be an island, and the words of the drifter came back to me. Mainland.

Strange as he'd been, perhaps his words had held some truth. Would I find dragons there? Would I find Spyro there? But it was too far to fly, and I was far too exhausted. The bottom rim of the sun was kissing the western horizon, throwing a golden reflection across the waves and an orange tint upon the clouds that hung around it. The sooner it sank, the sooner the unbearable heat would be replaced by gentle coolness.

I sank to my underbelly and let my head rest upon my paws. My eyes wanted nothing more than to close, but I fought it for a while as I watched the sun sink. It did so with agonising slowness, gradually bathing the sky in fire. For a sight that should have been beautiful, I found it only frustrating. If only it would hurry up and set.

Let the night come.

Let me sleep.

Let me forget.

When I next opened my eyes, I found myself in darkness. It was only when the haze of sleep had faded that I realised I had lost the battle with my eyelids. Judging from the heavy darkness that settled around me, I had been asleep for some time. The sun had long since set, and a dim bluish light bathed the sand and the sea. When I raised my head, I found what I immediately thought to be the green moon hanging whole and full at the peak of the sky. A second later, I realised my mistake. It was not green at all, but a muted, pale blue. I frowned.

Where were the Celestial Moons? Perhaps my eyes were playing tricks on me, and it really was the green moon. If it weren't for that odd colour, it would have looked just the same. I must have been tired to imagine such unusual things. The moons could not have changed overnight.

Of the red moon there was no sign, but perhaps she had yet to rise. It had been a long while since they had been in sync on the Night of Eternal Darkness; it only made sense that they no longer rose at the same time. And it only made sense than I was imagining the blue shine of the visible moon. I pushed it from my mind. The sky was clearer than I'd ever seen, and the more I stared, the more stars seemed to appear. Thousands of them: tiny flecks of light thrown all across the dark canvas of night.

I'd never seen anything quite so lonely. The wind was colder than it had been before, and the sand had lost all heat. I shuddered and curled up, seeking warmth that wasn't there. Once, he'd slept beside me—so close I'd felt his heat on my flank. Perhaps that infernal chain had been a blessing in disguise. If only it was still there; perhaps we wouldn't have been separated. Perhaps he would have been there beside me.

I stood up slowly and stepped to the edge of the waves. The sea was almost black in the darkness; an empty void all around me. But when it licked at my paws on the beach, I felt only the touch of cold water. I could see nothing beyond the distorted reflection of the moon on the waves, but I stared towards the horizon all the same.

The mainland was there, even if I couldn't see it. Tomorrow, I would fly there. Tomorrow, things would be better. I would make sure of it. The drifter had told me there were dragons on the mainland, and if my memory served me correctly, so was Warfang. I couldn't know how far I was from the Dragon City, but Spyro and I had traversed a large portion of the Dragon Realms, and I was certain it was near the ocean. Who knew what state the city was in after the war, but if that was where my search took me, then so it would be. Tomorrow, I promised myself.

Tomorrow, I would find him.


	6. Hunger

**6**

**Hunger**

I awoke at first light. Perhaps it was the sense of urgency that had held me prisoner ever since I'd woken alone, which had seeped into my dreams and warped them into tangles of fear and confusion. Or perhaps it was merely the light of the sun. But whatever the reason, my eyes opened at the first sign of dawn.

The stars were still visible, albeit barely. Near the head of the sun peeking shyly above the horizon, the sky was pale and tinted with yellow and pink. A ghost of the moon still hung near the peak of the sky, but it didn't glow as it had in the darkness of night. My body was stiff and sluggish as I picked myself up from the sand and stretched. Feeling returned slowly, tingling along my sand-caked legs and to the tips of my wings. As I took in a breath of cold salty air, I felt nothing less than rejuvenated.

It was a new day. Spyro was waiting.

There was no time for breakfast. The sooner I got to the mainland, the sooner I could find Spyro again. But my stomach growled in disagreement, and I recalled I'd yet to eat since waking the previous day. The encounter with the drifter had almost driven hunger from my mind, but I couldn't put it off any longer or I wouldn't get to the mainland at all.

Still, it was a bother I'd rather not have troubled myself with. Resolving to be quick, I spun away from the shore and surveyed the tangle of bushland, seeking a promising entrance point. Between two stilted trees, I found it. I slipped between them with nary a second thought, and the feeble light of the rising sun was shadowed almost instantly. My eyes had always seen well in darkness, so I had no trouble navigating through the shaded undergrowth. Tiny insects scuttled in the sandy soil beneath my paws, darting in and out of the decaying remnants of fallen branches. I paid them little attention; they were far too small to even be considered edible.

Too soon, I found myself on the other side of the isle without sign of prey. I gave the trees behind me a reproachful look and crept out onto the sand. It was still cool in the wake of night, but I had no doubt it would reach scorching temperatures long before the sun reached its peak. As I stepped towards the lapping waves, the distant calling of sea birds reached my ears. I glanced up sharply and sought out the dark shapes wheeling above.

Their high-pitched caws were not at all out of place in the silence. It was as though they were meant to be there—that the silence was there just for them to break. I watched them for a while as they wheeled in the sky; perhaps they were searching for food just as I was. They may have considered themselves hunters, but in my eyes they were perfect prey.

I lowered my stance, keeping my eyes on the seabirds. They flew to and fro with a swift grace that even I couldn't hope to match, and I knew the moment I took to the air they'd dart away. If only there was a way to be faster, just a little. Narrowing my eyes, I paced below the birds and pondered. They were too high to shoot down with poison or to paralyse with fear.

The ocean breeze caressed my flank , and I shivered involuntarily. All of a sudden, it was as though a light flared inside my mind. An idea. I considered it as I focused on the wind around me, forgetting about the birds for just a moment. Wind had always been a favourite element. I wasn't sure why, only that I felt an affinity for it that I did not have for the others.

Perhaps it could help me.

I breathed deep and closed my eyes. The wind flowed around me, visible in my mind's eye as discernible tendrils of mist-like substance. As they weaved around my body, I reached out for them with something beyond my physical self. For a moment, they seemed to shy away. I wasn't sure why; they had never done that before. I reached closer, and a tiny tendril wound itself around my being. I opened my eyes.

A sudden gust of wind whipped itself into a frenzy around me, throwing sand in all directions, and a feeling of triumph and power overcame me. Then a sense of exhaustion hit like a blow to the chest, and I gasped as the wind died as suddenly as it had picked up. I stumbled and almost hit the sand, but caught myself just in time. There was a tired ache somewhere deep in my stomach.

What had happened?

It took me a moment to recover, taking steady deep gulps of air to relieve the disconcerting emptiness in my chest. When the sudden exhaustion had faded, I straightened up and checked the birds were still there. One of them was a mere black speck in the distance, but the other still wheeled around nearby. I scowled.

The last time I'd felt that exhaustion had been in the DragonTemple. I'd only recently awoken after battling Spyro in Convexity to find myself laid low by a fatigue that had inflicted something beyond the body. When I'd tried to use my elements later that day, I'd almost collapsed.

Had I really used up so much energy while battling Malefor? I supposed I shouldn't have been surprised. I'd only once before been in a battle so tiring—and that had been against Spyro himself. It had been disconcerting when I had awoken to it in the Dragon Temple, but the absence of my elements in that moment was even less welcome. I was alone and stranded, with no sign of civilization and little prey to be spoken of.

If I couldn't catch those seabirds with wind, I had little chance of catching them at all.

"Stupid," I spat at my shadow, which was just starting to appear in the growing morning light. It was not a good time to be weak and helpless. Nor was it a sensation I was used to.

With a last longing glance at the wheeling bird, I turned away and slunk back into the bushland. I took my time going through, turning over every log and branch I found, just in case some small animal was hiding there. At that point, I'd have eaten anything even if it was nothing more than a mouthful.

Maybe the ancestors were watching over me, or perhaps I was just lucky, but my search did not prove fruitless. As I flipped over a large decaying log, a flash of movement caught my eye and I jumped. The log thumped to the ground beside me, and I stared at the black-shelled crab scuttling to and fro in the sand. It held its pincers up high, daring me to get closer, but they were hardly bigger than one of my claws. The entire creature was about as big as my paw.

I hoped it was edible.

I'd never eaten a crab before. For a moment I stood there, wondering what I was supposed to do. It looked more shell than flesh, and despite their small size, its pincers were still threatening. Slowly, I reached a paw towards it and one of his claws clacked shut inches from mine. A warning. I drew back, surprised, and it scuttled sideways towards the tangled undergrowth.

Afraid to lose it, I slammed my paw down on top of it without really thinking. It was flattened to the ground, its pincers opening and closing erratically as they strained to reach my scales. Before they could do so, I swiped my paw to the side and flipped the crab onto its back. Its spindly legs flailed uselessly, and a pale underbelly was revealed that looked much softer than the shiny black of its shell.

For a moment, I almost felt bad for it. Then a lance of hunger made my stomach ache, and I drove my claws down.

Crab didn't taste too bad, really. Perhaps a little salty, and nowhere near as filling as a fat elk or a pair of wood rabbits, but enough. Just enough. By the time I left the isle, feeling a little less hungry than before, the sun was fully above the horizon and the stars had all but disappeared. In the pale sky of early morning, I circled above the waves and pointed myself towards the distant shadow of land.

My destination.


	7. Mainland

**7**

**Mainland**

It was with a strange twinge of regret that I passed over the last isle before the mainland. I glanced over my shoulder as I did so, and saw the islands like giant stepping stones leading into the southern horizon. Had it really only taken me a day to pass through? It felt wrong, somehow, leaving the place I'd woken up in without finding Spyro or at least a sign of him. Part of me wanted to turn back and double check, but the urge to get to the mainland was too strong.

I could always come back, I promised myself. It wasn't like I could never return there. I kept that thought in mind as I turned my gaze back to the landmass stretched out ahead of me. Tall cliffs rose from the sea, and a thick forest of green perched atop them like a protective wall. As I flew closer, I could make out a small alcove in the cliff face where a tiny beach of rock and pebbles weathered the lapping waves.

I'd had enough of beaches. Instead of aiming towards it, I headed for the lip of the high cliffs and the forest above. The jagged cliff face came into stark focus as I neared, and I caught an updraft that carried me to the top. I landed easily at the edge of the forest and folded my wings with relief. They'd carried me long enough; they deserved a rest.

There was loose dirt, rock and sparse clumps of grass about my paws. I turned slowly to face the edge of the cliff and gazed out over the sea. The sun was rising over the islands, quickly turning the sky rich blue as mid-morning approached. I hesitated for a moment. Was I certain that Spyro wasn't down there? I'd searched all of the isles, and yet…

It was too late to second guess myself. I'd made my decision, and I had to stick with it. I would have a better chance of finding Spyro on the mainland, anyway. Perhaps I could even find help.

Resolute, I turned away from the islands for the last time and faced the trees. They were taller and straighter than the twisted, stunted trees I'd seen on the isles, and they grew so close together than I couldn't see far through them. I stepped forward without hesitation, and slipped into the cool shade of the forest. Pine needles littered the ground, and streams of light filtered through the canopy to illuminate my way.

The silence was more serene than lonely, and I almost began to enjoy myself as I made my way through the forest. It was pleasant between the trees—neither cold nor hot—and more than once I heard the rustling of some small creature in the bushes. A few times I considered stopping to hunt, but since I'd already eaten it seemed unimportant in the face of my ultimate directive. Maybe when I found Spyro, I could bring him back there—just for a change in scenery.

Assuming, of course, he wasn't needed for anything else. I scowled at the thought. The Dragon Realms and its inhabitants had always expected much of him. He was the purple dragon, appointed saviour of the world, the prophesized hero who had no choice but to do what lore dictated of him. I'd found the prospect laughable when I'd first heard of him—a pitiful hatchling trying to fulfil a prophecy far beyond him. It was only when I'd been liberated—separated from _her_—that I saw it in a different light. Pitiful, yes, but it was a tender pity, not one born of derision. I pitied him for the cruelty of prophecy, not for who he was.

Who he was… He was someone I admired. Someone who never questioned his expected duty, even though it seemed far beyond his meagre abilities. Meagre. It was almost laughable that I had once considered them such. Only in the final days of the war, when I had fought by his side, had I realised just how much power he possessed. Too much for a single dragon. Far too much. Malefor had already proven that long ago.

And where was Malefor now? Dragged to eternal damnation by the spirits of the ancestors; at least, that was the best I could assume. I doubted anyone could have really explained what had happened back then in the core of the world. It was beyond our understanding; beyond the understanding of anyone but the ancestors. But I had no trouble leaving Malefor's fate in their ethereal paws.

He had almost ruined the world with the power he'd held. No mortal dragon, not even all of them put together, could stand in the face of his wrath. Being in his servitude had taught me that much. It was only fitting that the ones to finally do so were those closest to gods. And Spyro himself.

I hummed quietly to stave off the silence and stopped at the crest of a shallow hill. The shine of sunlight ahead told me the edge of the forest was in sight, but what lay beyond it I couldn't tell. I could only hope it was familiar. Pine needles crunched under my paws as I made my way towards the light, half eager, half apprehensive.

When I was close enough that the brightness hurt my eyes, I closed them and stepped through. Wind brushed my face as I emerged. For a few seconds I stood there, eyes shut, not daring to open them and see what was laid out before me. But the anticipation quickly became too much, and I finally let them open.

A sea of grass curved down over uneven ground, bridging the gap between the edge of the forest and a small settlement. Squat stone houses formed a grid-like network split by thin roads of dirt, and dots of colour filled the streets. They were too far away to make out as they moved to and fro between buildings. Beyond the township, the rolling grass plains continued towards the telltale glint of a river that split the land in two. Distant shadowy humps on the horizon, like the jagged teeth of some giant dragon, spoke of a far away mountain range.

As the wind curled around my horns, my heart sank. It was beautiful—awe-inspiring, even—and far more peaceful than any place I'd ever seen. There was no hint of battle or war; no scars on the land to speak of the great calamity that had almost befallen the realms. The township below was whole and unharmed, and the promise of civilisation assured me I was no longer alone. But I could not rejoice. From the rolling plains to the distant mountain range, all of it was unfamiliar. All of it was alien.

It was only then, really, that I realised just how lost I was.


	8. Township

**8**

**Township**

The hum of noise that comes with civilisation hit me when I was barely halfway towards the town. I walked slowly through the tall grass, clenching and unclenching my jaw anxiously as I neared the closest entrance. From my earlier vantage point upon the hill I'd seen there were three roads that branched out from the low stone wall around the settlement—to the east, the west, and the north. Approaching from the south, I found a small wooden gate set in the wall that opened immediately onto the grasslands.

I wasn't sure whether to find it ominous or welcoming that the gate was wide open. Anyone or anything could have just walked straight in. I made a beeline for it nonetheless, listening to the sounds of civilisation that hung in the air. Voices calling, hatchlings laughing, paws drumming, doors opening and closing—it was almost music, but I wished I could appreciate it more. If only it was Warfang I was approaching, and not an unfamiliar town in the middle of an alien landscape.

At the threshold of the gate, I hesitated. Another step would take me out of the grass and onto the packed dirt of a thin road, but I couldn't bring myself to make that step. I knew nothing about this settlement, but what if they knew me? The encounter with the cheetahs of Avalar had taught me that my time as Malefor's servant was both well-known and not easily forgotten. If the civilians of this town knew and recognised me for what I'd once been, there was no guarantee they wouldn't attack on sight. Or at least drive me out.

It was unfortunate that I seemed to have no choice. If Spyro had been there, I'd at least have his company to rely on—surely being the companion of the fabled purple saviour held some merits. But he was exactly the reason I needed to do this. Finding him was all that mattered, and if I had to face dragons who despised me in order to do so, then so it would be. I was no weakling. I was not afraid.

With a deep breath, I stepped forward. Fine gravel crunched under my paws as I walked through the gate and down the thin street. Sandstone houses rose on both sides and their golden hue reminded me of Warfang, only with a more rugged charm. I tried to hold my head high as I walked, but all I wanted was to lower my eyes to the road and make myself as small as possible. I wasn't sure what I'd do if they recognised me for _her_.

At the edge of the street I stopped and found myself at an intersection of a much larger road. Unlike the one I'd just walked down, this road was busy with traffic. My first sight of dragons since waking up was like a rush of relief coupled with a sudden spike of nervousness. I took a step back involuntarily as a tall grey dragon with muted red wings strode past, but he didn't even give me a glance.

When no one made any attempt to approach me, the roiling ball of nerves in my stomach calmed somewhat. I watched a pair of green and blue hatchlings scurry past, their eyes alight with laughter, and the fear I'd felt earlier suddenly seemed foolish. This was a peaceful, welcoming town from all that I could see. Dragons stopped to chat in the street before moving on with smiles on their faces, and the few who glanced my way only smiled politely as they passed.

"Are you looking for someone?"

The voice made me jump, and I turned sharply to find a small orange hatchling staring up at me. She was squat and chubby, just as I had been once, and her eyes were the brightest shade of blue I'd ever seen. My eyes were drawn, however, to the odd patch of black just under her left eye that spread across her cheek. It was as though someone had spilt ink on her scales, and it had never rubbed off.

"Well, _are_ you?" Her voice was clear and high-pitched, with all the impatience of a child.

It was only then that I realised what she'd asked, and that I'd been standing at the edge of the street as though I was frozen for several minutes. No wonder she had approached. I opened my mouth to deny her question and send her on her way, but the words died on my tongue. Maybe…

"Actually, I am. A friend of mine with bright purple scales. He's about as tall as me." I tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace.

The hatchling wrinkled her snout. "Mamma says purple is a bad colour for dragons. I seen no purple dragons."

My heart sank. Of course she wouldn't have seen Spyro. I'd be lucky if anyone in this alien town had seen him. I was about to thank her and move on when her words suddenly hit me, and I frowned. Bad colour? What could that mean? Unless… She couldn't have been referring to Malefor. Could she?

"Why is purple a bad colour?" I asked as innocently as I could.

Her snout wrinkled further. "Because—"

Before another word left her mouth, her eyes widened and she stared past me at something down the street. I half turned to see what it was, but she'd already rushed past me before I had the chance.

"Sorry, lady!" she called over her shoulder.

I watched her run to a tall yellow dragoness with pale orange wings and the same bright blue eyes—undoubtedly her mother. As I stared, the dragoness raised her eyes from her hatchling and found mine. For a brief, horrible second I expected to see dark recognition cross her face, but instead she just smiled vaguely and turned away. I stared after her, bemused, as she ushered her daughter down the street.

She hadn't recognised me. In fact, no one seemed to. Their eyes slid over me as though I was an unimportant bystander—a normal civilian, just like everyone else. Maybe I wasn't as well known as the cheetahs had led me to believe.

I shook my head and stepped out into the busy street, falling easily into the flow of traffic heading to the left. In my head, I could vaguely map out where the centre of the town was, using only the memory I had of seeing it from upon the hill. If I headed there, perhaps I could find someone—a guardian, an elder, a leader of any sort—who could help me.

Somehow, I had to find out where I was and how far away I was from Warfang. The sooner I got to familiar territory, the better, even if it meant returning to a place where I was known as the Terror of the Skies. I could only hope Spyro wasn't lost somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

I turned the corner out of the bustling street and onto a smaller, quieter road. Little buildings that were clearly homes lined this street, most with unlit torches in sconces on their front doors. At the end of the street I could see what looked like a small courtyard, and I headed towards it without a second thought.

The rim of the courtyard was made of the same packed dirt of the roads, but in the centre was a large circle of grass. A scattering of dragons were lounging there, the low hum of their conversations hanging in the air. For a moment I stood and wondered why this place looked to have never been touched by the Dark Army. They had razed all small dragon villages to the ground in their quest for subjugation, and only the huge cities like Warfang had been able to stand in their path. But this place, despite how tiny and defenceless it was, looked like it had never even seen battle.

I must have stood there looking gormless for some time, because a pair of young drakes approached me. One had scales of deep dark green, and the other was the palest shade of orange I'd ever seen. They both looked to be just a few years older than me. As they got closer, I noticed something else—something I couldn't help but feel was odd. Just like the little hatchling I'd spoken with earlier, these two had strange inky black marks near their eyes. For the green dragon, it spread right across the bridge of his muzzle; for the orange, up and over the ridge of his eye.

Was it a disease, or was I merely imagining things?

"Haven't seen you around before," said the orange one as he and his friend stopped in front of me.

I hesitated. "No, I'm… I just got here."

"You lost?" said the other. There was nothing threatening about the way he looked at me, only curious.

All the same, I couldn't help but feel defensive. "Somewhat. Can you direct me to someone who knows this place? A guardian, perhaps?"

The drakes exchanged a look that I couldn't read, and the green one shrugged as he turned back to me. "You could speak to Elder Ecctin. You can usually find him at the sanctuary."

He pointed a wing towards a road branching off to the left of the courtyard. "You'll know it when you see it."

Stiffly, I nodded my thanks and turned to leave. I could feel their eyes on my back, watching me as I skirted around the circle of grass and headed down the road they'd indicted. If they'd recognized me at all, they hadn't shown it. Though, they had seemed unusually interested for reasons I couldn't fathom. How would they have reacted had I been with Spyro? They'd have been in awe of him, surely.

Pushing the drakes from my mind, I made my way down the road at a brisk pace. I hardly noticed the dragons that passed me in the street, so focused I was on my destination. Another corner took me into a wider road, and at the end I saw something promising—a great stone wall taller than the one surrounding the town, and a tall iron gate that faced the street. Through it, I could see green.

I was certain, somehow, that this had to be what the drakes called 'the sanctuary.'


	9. Sanctuary

**9**

**Sanctuary**

There was a jarring creak as the gate swung open at the slightest pressure. I stopped at the threshold, too uncertain to step through, too determined to turn back. The world beyond the gate was dark and green, full of low-growing plants that didn't quite reach to the top of the surrounding wall. The wall itself was just taller than the average full grown dragon. A narrow rocky path led into the shaded green wilderness and wound quickly out of sight.

With a last glance at the open streets behind me, I walked through the gate. The breeze was quickly stifled by the plants, turning the air heavy and humid as I headed further into the sanctuary. I could still see the sky if I looked up, and light streamed in to dapple the thin path I walked, but sound became muffled the further I went. As green enclosed me on all sides, and my only way forward was that tiny gravel road, I was almost able to forget that I was in the centre of a town.

It was so quiet, so wild, so serene that I could have been deep in the jungles of Tall Plains. If I listened hard enough I could hear the distant hum of the town, but it was so far away that it almost sounded like the buzzing of insects. A deep breath of humid air brought the clashing fruity scents of flowering plants.

I followed the path for a little while, listening hard for any sign of life—whether they be wild animals or other dragons—but it seemed as though I was alone. The deeper I headed into the sanctuary, the more I began to feel as though the wilderness was pressing in on me. The path seemed to get thinner, the undergrowth seemed to rise up to tangle around my legs, and the canopy began to grow thicker to block out the light. Part of me wanted to break into a run to escape the claustrophobic garden, but I fought it back.

A glance behind showed me only the forest I'd passed through, and the thin road I'd already tread winding out of sight. The road at least assured me I could find my way out again, but my scales still prickled. It seemed as though the forest itself was closing in. If only someone was there with me. Spyro, the guardians, even that insufferable Sparx; I'd have chosen to be stuck with him than lost in there alone. But choice was a luxury I didn't have.

My throat was dry, and I noticed only when I tried to swallow the fear rising in my chest. Every step seemed to take me into deeper, darker territory. I couldn't hold back anymore. With a snort of both anger and fear, I broke into a run. Gravel flew up around my paws as I skidded around a sharp corner and careened along the path. The heavy thud of my paws, the scrape of the gravel, and my panting breaths became a symphony in the silence. Every time my paws hit the path, they ached and burned. Every leap made my wings flare out in reflex, and they sliced through the undergrowth, sending leaves flying.

Green filled my vision, rushing up to meet me before I skidded around another corner and saw more green in every direction. The gravel path was my only lifeline. I thundered along it like Malefor himself was chasing me.

It was only when the undergrowth suddenly fell away around me and light exploded before my eyes that I skidded to a halt. I stood panting in lush grass, my legs shaking, and stared. A large clearing spread out before me, surrounded on all sides by forest and covered in a blanket of thick deep-green grass. In the middle of the clearing was a statue just taller than I was, surrounded by a low ring of stone.

At first, the clearing seemed abandoned. But as I let my eyes roam, I did a double-take. At the far edge of the clearing, sitting under the shade of the trees, was an old yellow dragon. He was about as tall as the guardians, and his scales were muted with age. His head was bowed and his eyes were closed as though in sleep. For a moment, I stood and waited, but he didn't seem to notice my presence.

I made my way across the grass towards the statue and stopped just outside the stone ring around it. It was carved in the likeness of a dragoness, not quite life-size, who looked as though she was rising from the earth. Tongues of stone ivy curled around her body as though it wanted to hold her back, but her face was carved with a gentle, serene expression. A closer look at the stone ring revealed runes carved around it in a language I couldn't understand.

I looked up at the dragoness again, marvelling at the detail with which it had been carved. It surely couldn't have been done without the assistance of the earth element—no dragon was that skilled. But who was she? Surely she must have been an important figure to have had a statue carved in her likeness. Or maybe she hadn't been anyone at all, but merely a symbol of whatever it was this statue signified. A symbol of this 'sanctuary', whatever it was meant for.

The old dragon still hadn't noticed I was there. Wondering if he was even still alive, I turned away from the statue and approached him. There was no change in his stance and I stopped in front of him, gazing up at his closed eyes. Just like on the other dragons I'd seen up close, that same splash of black spread across his cheek and down his neck. If I hadn't been able to see the gentle rise and fall of his ribs, I might have thought him a statue himself. I opened my mouth to address him, but hesitated. Would it be considered rude to wake an old dragon from his slumber? But I'd come that far, and the drakes had sent me there; it seemed folly to leave without some sort of explanation.

I cleared my throat softly. Nothing. He slept on without a single move to suggest he'd heard. Frowning, I tried again and received the same result. There was nothing else for it.

"Excuse me?"

He didn't even twitch.

I scowled. "Hello? Sir? Excuse me!"

At first there was silence, and then his eyelids twitched. They slid upwards, revealing bright grey irises. "You are excused."

I could only stare. The old dragon shifted and raised his head; I could almost hear his old bones creaking. He stretched his huge white wings, which were wrinkled beyond belief, and folded them back against his flanks. Then he looked down at me with the utmost surprise. "Goodness, when did you get here?"

"I was…just…" I fumbled for the right words, startled by his delayed surprise. It didn't help that he was staring straight at me with those piercing grey eyes.

His wrinkled mouth curled into a smile. "Are you here to meditate too?"

Thrown for a moment, I stood in gormless silence as I rolled his question around in my head. Meditating… That explained what he had been doing. I looked him over curiously, and the words of the two young drakes came back to me. It was too much of a coincidence. I shook my head. "I don't think so. I'm sorry, but are you Elder Ecctin?"

His smile widened, crinkling his eyes. "Yes, I suppose I am."


	10. Home

**10**

**Home**

Telling Elder Ecctin this was my first time in his little town may have been a mistake. Immediately, he set off on a tangent about the town itself and how it was the southernmost dragon settlement in the realms. It was only when he mentioned the statue that I stopped trying to drown him out with my own thoughts and listened intently.

"…carved in the likeness of Draia, the ancestor of earth dragons," he was saying, looking proudly at the statue as though he had carved it himself. "This town was formed mainly of earth dragons back in its early days, you see, though our population is much more diverse now. This sanctuary was created in her honour long ago when the town was still young, and it has been the duty of the elders to keep it in pristine condition ever since."

I found myself nodding slowly, staring at the statue in a new light. It made sense to have a nature sanctuary dedicated to the ancestor of earth dragons, but the dragoness in the statue seemed so much gentler than I would expect. Then again, the only earth dragon I had ever really spent time in the presence of was the burly, war-scarred earth guardian, Terrador. Perhaps not all earth dragons were like him.

"I'm sorry," I said, cutting off the elder in the middle of a spiel about his duties. "What did you say this town was called?"

He faltered, surprise flashing across his face. "I don't believe I did say. Well then, my apologies. Welcome to the town of Earthridge."

With that, he gave a low bow that made his bones creak audibly. I stared as he straightened up with painstaking slowness, turning the name over in my head. No matter how much I strained my thoughts, I simply couldn't remember ever hearing such a name. How far from familiar territory was I to be in a town I'd never even heard the name of before? Somewhere inside me, a pit of worry deepened.

At length, Elder Ecctin cleared his throat and stopped his spiel. "I do believe I've spoken enough. What brings a young dragoness like you to our humble town?"

I hesitated halfway to a response, suddenly afraid. Somehow, I didn't want to admit I was lost. If I spoke it aloud, it would only confirm what I feared most. Instead, I avoided his eyes and said, "I'm travelling. Do you know of Warfang, the DragonCity?"

"Warfang?" he echoed, his eyes widening and his wrinkled eye-ridges shooting up towards his stunted brown horns. "My goodness, is that where you're from?"

The expected 'yes' died on my tongue. Where I was from? Such words implied that Warfang was home to me, but that wasn't right at all. Warfang was home to lots of dragons, but I'd only ever passed through it—in different times, once as an enemy to the city and once as an ally. I wasn't even sure if I'd expected to return there once it was all over, but with Spyro missing it seemed the obvious choice. Did that mean I considered it 'home'?

No. That wasn't right.

But if Warfang wasn't home, where was?

In another time, I'd called a tower of shadows and darkness 'home', but I don't think I'd ever really considered it that. I certainly didn't now. The DragonTemple? I had lived there for some time, but those days had been filled with bitter uncertainty and I'd never felt so out of place. I'd left for a reason. It had never been home.

I supposed that meant I'd never had a home. There was no place in my memory that I recalled with the warmth and welcome of 'home.' There was no place I felt I wanted to return to, for every place I had ever been was drenched in one way or another in bad and bitter memories.

All I really wanted was to find Spyro again.

Elder Ecctin was still waiting patiently for an answer, and I felt panic rise for a moment. Then I pushed it down and gave him the expected answer. "Yes, I suppose."

He looked at me as though he was seeing me for the first time, and there was something in his eyes that I couldn't read. Perhaps it was awe, but it seemed sadder than that. Something about that look made my heart sink.

"My dear," he said, "you are a long way from home."


	11. Whereabouts

**11**

**Whereabouts**

I suppose I had tried to prepare myself for such a verdict, and yet the words still struck like a blow to the gut. My heart felt like it had dropped into my stomach. A long way… How far was a long way? I could only choke out one word. "Where?"

Elder Ecctin hummed thoughtfully, his silvery eyes glazing over. "You're on the other side of the realms."

The breath caught in my throat. "O…oh."

The wrong side of the realms. I wasn't even sure how big the Dragon Realms were, but I knew they were bigger than I could possibly fathom. I'd never been more than a few days' flight from a familiar landmark, even in my days as the Dark Army's general. And now I was on the other side of the realms, away from anything I knew or had ever known. I couldn't wrap my head around it.

"You say you're a traveller," said the elder, breaking me from my thoughts. "Where are you travelling?"

"I'm…" I hesitated, wondering how to answer. My destination had been, until a few moments ago, undeniably Warfang. Now that I knew how far away it was—at least vaguely—had that changed? I didn't have any other destination in mind. Unless… "I'm actually looking for someone. That's why I'm travelling. I don't know where he is."

"You're searching, then," said Elder Ecctin. "Have you searched for long?"

"No… Not really." I looked away and wondered why I felt ashamed.

"And yet you are far from home," he continued slowly. "Strange."

Silently, I cursed myself. Of course he would notice that; it made no sense. Waking up in the middle of nowhere made no sense. And there I was, claiming to be a traveller who hadn't been travelling for long, already on the wrong side of the realms. I opened my mouth to admit it at last, that I didn't know where I was, how I'd got there or where I was going, but I never got the chance.

Ecctin smiled. "You travellers are a mysterious sort. No, don't explain it. I prefer to wonder."

A sigh escaped me. "Can you help me, at least? Can you point me towards Warfang?"

The smile fell slowly from his face and his wings seemed to droop. "Alas, that is a request I cannot comply with."

That was an answer I had not been expecting. My eyes widened of their own accord, and my voice became shrill. "What? Why not?"

Elder Ecctin smiled sadly. "Because I do not know the way."

I gaped. How was that possible? Warfang was the biggest city in the realms, or so I'd heard. Even on this side of the realms, surely they'd know the way there. I couldn't believe it. Maybe Ecctin had just grown so old and senile that he was forgetting things. Surely there was something or someone he could point me towards—a map, someone who knew how to get there, anything at all.

"Is there someone who _can_ help me?" I asked, trying not to sound too impatient.

Again, Ecctin made that odd thoughtful humming noise deep in his throat. "I suppose… Well, your best chance would be Sidian. It's a city to the east, the largest in this corner of the realms. We've been entirely self-contained here for many years, and the knowledge of far away places has diminished somewhat amongst our civilians…"

"But the dragons of this city should be able to help?" I asked sceptically. Sidian; another name I'd never heard before. It didn't fill me with confidence.

"I should hope so." He chuckled to himself, as though he had made a joke. "Sidian is one of the largest trading centres on this side of the realms. I'm certain someone there can help you find your way."

"Great," I muttered. "Where is it exactly and how far?"

"Straight to the east. Follow the rising sun. It should take you a week at most, unless you are unable to fly." He eyed my wings as though to decide that for himself.

I tried not to scowl. "A week?"

I'd ever flown for so long before, and just flying for a day over the southern isles had tired me out. How could I be expected to fly for a whole week to get to this city?

"I'm afraid so. I suppose you can see why we are so isolated, hmm? We're quite far removed from the rest of dragon society." He seemed oddly proud about that, or so I gathered from the way he puffed his chest out and raised his head.

"I see."

It was just my luck to end up in the one town where no one knew where anything was outside their walls. I suppose I should have felt lucky that I'd happened across a town at all, so close to the ocean. I could very well have been travelling for days without sign of civilisation if Earthridge hadn't been built so far from the bulk of society. All the same, it was not a welcome feeling to know that my journey, as it seemed, had hardly begun.

Maybe if I was lucky, I'd find Spyro before I even got to Sidian.

Spyro.

"Oh!" I looked up at the elder again. "I meant to ask, have you seen a purple dragon around lately? He's the one I'm…"

I trailed off. A dark expression had crossed over Ecctin's formerly cheerful face, full of resentment and anger. If he hadn't looked so old and frail, I might have been afraid that he was about to attack. But all he did was utter a few words, his tone so filled with bitterness that he sounded, for a moment, a thousand years older.

"There are no purple dragons here."

I stepped back, a shiver running down my spine. "O…okay. I'm sorry. Forget I asked."

The shadow fell away from his face as quickly as it had come, and he smiled as though nothing had happened. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

I was already backing towards the path I'd taken to get there. Something about the smile on his face now seemed fake and disturbing. The dark anger that had contorted his expression remained planted in my mind's eye, and I couldn't banish it. Something about this place wasn't right. "No… No. I'm fine. Thank you."

Without waiting for a response, I turned and ran back into the sanctuary of the trees. They enveloped me like protective arms, and I fled back along the thin path, not caring what the elder had thought of my abrupt departure. The memory of his words made the scales on the back of my neck prickle.

No purple dragons.

No Spyro.


	12. On the Way

**12**

**On the Way**

I burst out of the sanctuary without looking back, taking a great gasp of fresh air. As I cantered along the road and turned a sharp corner towards the eastern side of the town, I suddenly felt free. It had been so stifling and oppressing inside the sanctuary, even more so after I'd seen that disturbing look on Elder Ecctin's face. It was a relief to be away from him and the claustrophobic forest within the walls.

At least one good thing had come of our meeting.

With a new direction, I thundered down the path towards the east, dodging dragons in the street. Some jumped aside and I heard their startled exclamations behind me, and others stopped and stared as I dashed past. I cared about none of this. I'd had enough of this town, its isolation, and its strange bias towards purple dragons. There was no hint that Malefor had ever done anything to their perfect little town, and yet Elder Ecctin seemed to hold a personal grudge.

It didn't make sense, but I shoved those thoughts to the back of my mind. If no one there was going to help me find Spyro, I'd find him myself.

Ahead, a small round fountain had been built at the intersection of two streets. Clear water bubbled welcomingly within it. I narrowed my eyes and urged my legs faster. The wind battered my face as I leapt over the fountain and came down hard on the other side. Stumbling slightly, I looked up to see the eastern wall was at last in view. Eager to be free from this isolated town, I ran towards it. Gravel scraped my already tender paws, but I ignored it as I pushed myself further. Faster.

I caught a glimpse of a startled red dragon out of the corner of my eye, and then the wall was upon me. With a great push of my hind legs, I leapt for freedom. My wings snapped out and caught the air, and I soared over the wall. One of my claws scraped the sandstone for the barest of seconds, and then I was airborne and away.

Breathing deep, I soared high over the grasslands and found an air current in which to glide. Only then, when I had steadied my flight, did I glance over my shoulder. Earthridge spread out behind me, looking smaller now that I was above it. I could see the huge green patch that was the sanctuary in the middle of the town, and all of the gravel roads that criss-crossed out from it. The tiny figures of a number of dragons stood near the eastern wall, and I had no doubt that they were watching me.

So what if they thought me strange. I had a journey to take, and a new destination to reach. With a flick of my tail as a final farewell, I looked away from the town and towards the eastern horizon. The hills of the grassland continued as far as the eye could see, until they met with the sky, but I could see also the shimmer of the distant river to the north following the same path.

Something about that river assured me that, as long as I followed it, I would find civilisation. Even if I had to go all the way to this Sidian city. Follow the rising sun, he had said. The sun was descending towards the western horizon; I could feel its warmth on my back, assuring me of my direction.

I pointed myself towards the distant hills. Spyro or Sidian, whichever came first; one way or another, I would find my way.


	13. Howling

**13**

**Howling**

The moon was blue.

I'd managed to convince myself the previous night that my eyes were playing tricks on me, but there it was again. It hung straight ahead, a pale disk beckoning me onwards towards the east. I had no choice but to stare into it as my wings carried me above the dark grasslands.

Night had fallen a few hours ago, gradually bathing the world in shadows and darkness. I welcomed the change. From the moment I'd left Earthridge to the moment the sun had set, nothing of the land below me had changed. The same hills, the same grass, the same river flowing in the north. I waited for something to appear on the horizon, but nothing ever did. Just more hills and more grass.

If I looked to the north, I could see the fuzzy shapes of distant mountains and what looked to be the dark smudge of a forest at their base. Part of me wanted to change course, just to get away from the endless grasslands, but the thought of flying into unknown territory without direction filled me with fear and uncertainty. I was already lost enough as it was. Who knew what was beyond those mountains.

As the world grew darker around me, I thought I saw something in the distance that promised something more than hills and grass. A hazy smudge on the horizon—it could have been trees or rock, or even civilization. In the dark and from such a distance, I had no way to tell. But it gave me relief to know that I wouldn't be soaring above the endless grasslands for all eternity.

With relief came tiredness, and as I stared at the strange blue moon I knew I couldn't fly any longer. It was late, and I had awoken at dawn. It was strange to think that only a day had passed. In a day I'd left the southern isles, found civilization, discovered my vague whereabouts, and taken a new direction. But I hadn't found Spyro.

I descended slowly towards the hills, cupping the air with my wings. The grass tickled my scales as I landed, and I trudged through it into the shadow of a tall hill. It offered some protection from the wind, but there was little else I could do for shelter. The grasslands were just too open.

I shivered and drew my wings around me as I settled into a tiny hollow in the earth. Grasses swayed around me, dyed navy by the darkness of night. A bluish glow shimmered upon the crests of the hills, but the shadows at the base hid me away from the revealing moonlight. I felt vulnerable there. So alone, and so unprotected.

If I hadn't been so tired, I would have forced myself to stay awake that night. But my eyes yearned to close, and I let them as I laid my head upon the grass. Sleep crept upon me within moments, and I was swept away in a spiral of darkness and abstract images.

Purple; I saw purple—but it faded before my eyes, swallowed by blackness, and my chained paws could not reach him. I tried to scream, but I had no voice. In fact, I was nothing at all. Just shadows and darkness.

A howl ripped through the air with startling clarity, and I jerked upright with a start. As I gazed around at the empty grasslands, my heart thundering, I realised I had been dreaming. Had the howl been in my dream too?

The erratic beating of my heart slowed and I settled uneasily back into the grass. I kept my eyes open, watching the moonlight on the hills, seeking for danger. When I found none, I let them close again.

Another howl broke the silence. I flinched and wrenched my body from the grass. The howl echoed in my head, and another soon followed. My heart thundering slowed once more. Clear and sharp though they were, I could tell the howls were far away. I was in no danger from whoever they belonged to.

Once again nestled in the grass, I rested against the slope of the hill and listened. Tired though I was, something about those distant howls compelled me to listen. They sounded just like I felt: lost and lonely, seeking but not finding, calling across a great empty expanse where no one would answer.

I shivered and closed my eyes. The howls lulled me to sleep, and leached into my dreams. They were all around me, calling and crying for help, for someone to notice. Nobody answered.

I dreamed I was howling too.


	14. Hunters

**14**

**Hunters**

The next day passed without incident, the hours blurring together as I flew onwards. The grasslands gave way to sand and rock as the dark smudges on the horizon became visible as great plateaus of stone. I passed overhead with the barest of glances, seeking only a smudge of purple amongst the warm tones of sandstone. Nothing presented itself, and when the blue moon rose again I sought for a place to spend the night.

Unlike the smooth hills of the grasslands, the landscape there was teeming with nooks and crannies and places to hide amongst the rock. I landed on the flat peak of a large plateau, stumbling forward in my tiredness. The stone was still warm, though the sun had set some time ago. The wind, in contrast, was cold enough to make me shiver as it skimmed over the tops of the plateaus and made the membranes of my wings flutter. I hugged them closer to my flanks and carefully edged down a narrow lip of stone at the edge of the plateau.

A shallow fissure had been weathered into the rock there, accessible by a narrow shelf of stone. I stepped unsteadily onto it, swaying unnervingly as tiny shards of rock broke away from the edge under my talons. They tumbled down the side of the plateau and disappeared into the darkness. It was a long way down.

I turned around carefully and backed into the fissure until my tail hit the rock. Then I curled up tightly, tucking my paws against my chest, and gazed into the distance. Just like on the grasslands, everything was illuminated by pale blue moonlight. There was a shorter plateau across from me, its flat head almost glowing with moonshine.

I'd never thought it possible that the other side of the realms would have a different moon. Maybe it just wasn't visible from Warfang's side of the realms. If that was possible.

Sleep came easily to me, exhausted as I was. I think I had strange dreams that night, but when I woke up I didn't remember any of them. When I woke up, it wasn't even dawn yet. I sat for a moment, still dazed by the remnants of sleep, and wondered what had awoken me. It was darker than it had been before, no doubt due to the moon's position in the sky. I couldn't see it from my vantage point.

It was only when a piercing howl echoed through the garden of plateaus that I understood. It wasn't like the howls I'd heard the previous night—those had been distant and lonely. These were close; too close. There was no loneliness. Instead, those howls made me think of hunters and hunger.

I shivered and shuffled further back against the edge of the shallow fissure. They wouldn't find me up there. There was no way. In the darkness, my black scales were nigh on invisible, and I was far up away from the ground. All the same, the proximity of their howling sent shivers down my spine.

I was in no condition to fight for my life. My elements were drained entirely, and travel had left me with a lingering exhaustion that even sleep couldn't fully cure. If I was found by hunters… Well, I didn't know what I'd do.

For some time, I sat there curled up against the rock, listening as the howls grew closer until they sounded like they were right below me. I thought I could hear the pitter-patter of paws on stone far below, and I held my breath until it had passed. The howls moved further away, gradually fading into the distance, and I let my body sag. My fortune had held out.

Sleep did not return easily, and when it did it was fitful. I awoke at dawn feeling hardly rested, but knowing I had to continue. The hunters had reminded me that I too had yet to eat for some time. It was no wonder I felt so exhausted. I would have given anything even just for a spirit gem to give me a boost of energy. But the plain of plateaus was barren of all but rock and sparse vegetation.

By midday, I was ready to drop. There was nothing else for it. I had to stop and look for prey, or I'd be leaving my corpse behind to slowly decay amongst the rock and stone. I circled around a low plateau, eying the ground below for any sign of life. I was about to move on when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.

Curious, I wheeled towards it, but it seemed to have vanished. Hoping it was some kind of edible creature, I descended to the ground at last. It was warm and gravelly under my paws, interspersed with clumps of dry grass. I crept towards the spot where I'd seen movement just in time to spy a small creature dart out of the grass.

It fled across the earth and disappeared into another clump of grass, and I pounced. The tiny creature darted from between my paws almost faster then my eyes could follow. As it fled from me, I finally got a better look at it. It was a tiny mouse-like creature, round and covered in pale tan fur, with a long thin tail. I growled and gave chase.

The tuft of fur on the end of its tail bobbed in front of my snout and I opened my jaws to snatch it up, but the mouse changed direction so suddenly that I was forced to skid to a stop. I wheeled around to follow it, only to find it had disappeared into the grasses once more. Scowling, I lowered my stance and flared my nostrils. It had to be there somewhere… If only I had my elements.

Maybe I could just _try_. There was no harm in trying.

I tensed my paws, clenched my teeth, and willed the essence of fear to rise in my veins. A familiar heat constricted my head and, had I been able to see my reflection, I had no doubt I'd have seen my eyes glowing red. Then I opened my mouth and screamed. Or tried to.

All that come out was a wheeze and a reddish wisp of fog-like substance. I coughed and staggered as a rush of uncanny exhaustion washed over me, the world spinning before my eyes. My stomach churned; I felt sick. It was no use; my elements were gone. I was helpless.

I snorted and took in a deep breath. The worst of the exhaustion faded slowly, but the rest still remained like a heavy weight in my gut. It was getting worse. If I didn't find food or spirit gems soon, I'd be done for. The mouse I'd been hunting had surely disappeared by now.

All the same, I crept along the rocky path, searching through the clumps of grass and seeking the scent of the rodent. It was still fresh, and I followed it for a little while through the canyon, but there was no sign of my prey. I shouldn't have been surprised. This was its territory, and I was only a lost hunter who'd rarely had to survive on her own. As the Terror of the Skies, the apes had answered to my every whim. At the Dragon Temple, I'd been treated like a guest by the guardians. When I'd been with Spyro, we'd always worked together.

I wasn't used to being alone. And it was only now, when everyone and everything I'd ever known had deserted me, that I realised that.

I'd only felt like this once before, when I'd deserted the Temple so long ago. That hadn't lasted long. I'd been captured by pirates within a day and forced to fight for their enjoyment. At least my elements had returned by then, else I might never have left that place.

When my search proved fruitless, I had little choice but to move on. The hours dragged on and the setting sun turned the plateaus orange and gold. Too exhausted to continue until dark, I descended to the ground for one last hunt. In the waning light, my hopes were not high. But I needed food, and I would do anything to get it.

Unfortunately, there were others thinking the same thing.

I heard them before I saw them, their paws drumming against rock in a steady, ominous rhythm. I spread my wings on reflex, only to freeze as a cold shiver ran down my spine. The drumming stopped, but I heard their heavy panting as though it was right behind me. A low growl shuddered through the silence, and a thrill of fear surged through my body. I didn't even have time to turn around.

A single thought erased all others, as though it was the only law that existed in my world at that moment. I felt it through my veins, at every nerve ending, trembling through the recesses of my mind and body. I seized it like a lifeline.

_Flee._


	15. Veins

**15  
**

**Veins**

I fled.

Gravel and stone crunched under my talons as I forced my legs into action and sprinted between the plateaus. I heard them follow in pursuit, their eager hungry howls adding to the ice already flowing through my veins. Phantom claws clutched at my heart, and I experienced everything in the sharpest clarity. The way forward, flanked by stone guardians; the harsh earth beneath my paws, stabbing painfully with every leap; the light of the setting sun washing everything in bloody orange; the hot panting breaths on my tail.

I spread my wings, gasping through the burn in my chest as walls of stone rushed past me. Somehow, I had to get into the air. But my wings were heavy and exhausted from carrying me for so long, and the strength I needed to get airborne simply wasn't there. Panic lanced through my gut and I tried to force my legs faster, but they couldn't comply. I was at my limit.

The drumming of paws and a symphony of hungry panting and snarling filled my head. I could feel them right on my tail and imagined their fangs inches from my scales. They were upon me. I had only seconds, if that.

With a final burst of desperation, I leapt for a narrow ledge protruding from the wall of the plateau. It was not nearly wide enough to stand on, but it was all I had. My forepaws struck the protrusion with enough force to make it crumble, and I twisted to the side, slamming my hind paws against the wall of stone. Fragments of rock fell away under my claws as I sprang away from the wall and pounded my wings.

My talons skimmed the earth and I flapped desperately to stay aloft before gravity could drag me to my doom. With a painful _smack_, my tail struck the earth as I veered upwards and almost swerved out of control. It was only the desperate need to stay alive that gave me to the strength to right myself. I pushed towards the tops of the plateaus, beating my wings furiously, my heart pounding.

The howls of my hunters ripped through me, and I caught a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. I swerved sideways with hardly a second to spare as one of them sprang off the wall of the plateau and leapt up towards me with more grace than I had managed. My vision was filled with matted black fur and I stifled a scream as claws grazed my shoulder, but my swift reaction had saved me. With a quiet snarl, the hunter fell back to the ground.

I looked in time to see it land easily on its paws and spin around to snarl up at me. The breath caught in my throat. There were about ten of them—great wolf-like beasts that reminded me of Death Hounds. Their snouts were longer and narrower, as was the build of their bodies, and great ridges of what seemed to be bone ran along their backs. Twisted white horns curled backwards from behind their pointed ears.

One look at their piercing orange eyes and I knew I was lucky to be alive.

My heart was still pounding and the breath was short in my lungs, but I wheeled away and soared far above them. For a little while, they ran below me, their snarls and howls promising me that they would get their prey sooner or later. I knew it was not safe to stop, even on the very tops of the plateaus. Who knew how agile these beasts were.

It was dark by the time the hunters fell behind. Their howls eventually faded into the distance and left me again in lonely but welcome silence. I almost dropped out of the air then and there, but I couldn't let myself stop. Until I was far away from those hounds, I couldn't trust the ground to be safe.

My eyes were heavy and uncomfortably dry, and all they wanted to do was close as I flew onwards through the night. The plateaus blurred below me until I could hardly distinguish them from the sky, and only the moon remained in clarity. As time trickled by, I slipped into a stupor of kinds—all I was aware of was the constant beating of my wings, and the need to keep going.

Spyro drifted in and out of my thoughts, and at times I thought he was there flying beside me. I was strangely calm about this, as if his presence was of no concern to me, but when I looked to find he wasn't there at all, I was left with a cold sense of isolation. The need to sleep faded to the back of my mind as I pushed on past the border of tiredness.

Slowly, the plateaus began to sink back into the earth, and the land below became flatter with every passing minute. Trees erupted to take their place, spreading out across the horizon under the blue moonlight. Gradually, without really noticing, I began to sink lower in the air.

The first light of dawn spread across the sky soon after I left the canyon. My attention was drawn away from the rising sun, however, by a spot of colour between the sparse trees. The object emitted a familiar pale pink glow, but I couldn't wrap my head around where I'd seen such a colour before. Slowly, I descended towards it.

The ground seemed to rush up to meet me faster than I had expected. I landed heavily with a jarring thud that sent trembles of pain up through my legs. Stumbling, I barely caught my balance as the spinning world righted itself. The pink glow was just ahead, peeking from between the trees. A thrill of elation surged through me.

Crystal. Fingers of pale pink crystal erupted from the earth in a frozen starburst, pastel colours swirling behind their glassy surface. It was a spirit gem. I could have laughed with relief, but it was all I could do to drag my exhausted body over to it. Only when I was within paw's-reach of the gem did I notice something strange.

Veins of inky black twisted through the crystal, stark against the otherwise pale colours. I traced them with my eyes, wondering what could have possible made the spirit gem like this. I'd never seen anything like it. The black veins seemed to flow with the ever-moving colours inside the gem, growing and receding like a spider's web being continuously woven and undone. Warily, I reached for the gem's smooth face.

It was cool under the pad of my paw. I could feel the power swirling beneath the glassy surface; it felt no different to any other spirit gem I'd encountered. Emboldened, and desperate for the energy it would provide, I drove my claws forward. The crystal shattered as easily as glass.

I tipped my head back with a sigh of relief as a warm glow surrounded me, filling my core with much needed vigour. But as it swept through my veins, I felt something else—something strange. An odd creeping sensation tingled along the edge of my scales, like the crawling legs of countless insects. A shudder passed over my body, but the feeling passed as quickly as it had come.

I felt rejuvenated; alive. But the spirit gem had left one thing untouched: the heavy tiredness that I could no longer ignore. It didn't matter now. I was far away from the canyon and the hunters, and I had the strength of the ancestors running newly through my veins. The sun was rising, but I didn't care.

At last, I collapsed into the prickly grass and let my exhausted body relax. Everything could wait until tomorrow. Darkness crept upon me, and I didn't even try to fight as it whisked me away from wakefulness.

It was not a dreamless sleep.


	16. Twisted

**16  
**

**Twisted**

Shadows.

Anger.

A purple dragon stood upon the peak of a twisted mountain, somehow familiar. He was angry; resentful. Somehow I knew this, as though it was me who was feeling these bitter, dark emotions. The night sky churned around him, choked by storm clouds tinted with a sickly green hue. As the wind swept them aside, a trio of huge moons like giant eyes gazed down upon the mountain and the dragon.

Green. Red. Blue.

I felt his disgust; his hatred. Dragonkind would pay for what it had done. They would all pay.

The swirling vortex of sickly clouds swirled faster, closing in around the purple dragon upon the peak. Great cracks began to spider-web over the glowing surface of the moons, growing larger and wider with every passing second. Light—brighter than I had ever known it—shone from within the cracks. I wanted to shield my eyes, but I could not.

There was no sound as the moons were rent apart. The jagged pieces of all that remained were swept away with the swirling maelstrom, and everything was lost in a burst of darkness.

_I hate them!_

_They made me like this!_

_You wanted me to be great! You told me I could be!_

_Why?!_

_None of you deserve mercy!_

The faces of dragons swam in a sea of black and grey, their features twisting and reforming into grotesque shapes. A fire dragon, an ice dragon, an earth dragon… Elders, all of them. I hated every one of them, but I didn't know why. Something about them was familiar, but I couldn't figure out what.

Whoever they were, I wished they would all just disappear. They deserved to disappear.

_You made me who I am._

_You said you believed in me._

_Why?_

A jagged crack split the vortex of black and grey in two, and the faces faded. Somewhere, something shattered. I felt it more than I heard it. And then I was falling, clawing at the darkness, trying desperately to fly but unable to spread my wings. I was suffocating, drowning in a place without air, without sound, without sight.

Fear clutched at my heart, and suddenly I was standing on earth.

All around me, a world of shadows spread in every direction. The ground was flat and glassy, pitch black like a night sky without moon or stars. Grotesque formations of purple and black crystals erupted from the ground, twisting into shapes vaguely reminiscent of trees and plants. A mountain range rose towards the restless stormy sky far ahead, its face as smooth and glassy as the ground beneath my feet.

When I stepped forward, it gave way around my talons like some sort of firm ooze. The blackness clung to my scales insistently, even when I tried to shake it off. Shuddering, I spun around, searching for life in this horrid dark world.

A twisted mockery of a town erupted from the earth behind me, formed of the same ominous crystal substance. Things shuffled through the streets, as big as dragons but lacking any true form. They were slick, bulbous creations, their bodies bulging in strange places and their skin—if it could be called that—dripping strange ooze. They were as black as onyx, but with none of the shine.

I wanted to run, but I was rooted to the spot, frozen at the threshold to the entrance of the town. One of the creatures slowed its shuffling pace and turned ungainly towards me. There was no clear indication of where its head or face was, but a pair of what could only be eyes glared through the dark slime that made up its body. They were cold and blue like ice.

The breath froze in my lungs. A scream rose in my chest but became stuck in my throat, and I could only stare into the featureless face of the oozing beast. It took a shuffling step forward, but my frozen body refused to take one back. A horrible creeping fear spread over my body. Step by step, it shuffled closer.

_Help_.

_Help_, its eyes seemed to say.

It reached out some kind of bulbous appendage, dripping black ooze onto the glassy ground. My mind screamed for me to run, but my body would not obey. I was not in control.

_Please. Help._

_Don't leave us like this._

The thing was inches from my snout. A great cold shudder ran down my spine, and I felt a sudden creeping sensation rising up my legs. I didn't want to take my eyes off the approaching abomination, but something forced me to look down. The ground was twisting under my paws, oozing like liquid and slowly creeping up over my ankles. I tried to wrench my paw away, but it wouldn't budge.

Fear seized hold of my heart, and I jerked my head up to scream. It never left my throat. A pair of ice-blue eyes set in an oozing black face hovered inches from mine. My heart stopped.

_Please._

_Help._


	17. Travellers

*** Tunc = Toonk; "oo" as in "book."**

**17**

**Travellers**

Consciousness crawled back with agonising slowness. The images before my eyes seemed to splinter, and indecipherable sounds murmured around my head. An awful cloying dryness stuck my tongue to the roof of my mouth, and I'd never felt so stiff. The hellish landscape I'd been in moments before was suddenly gone, and then there was only the darkness on the inside of my eyelids.

I felt grass and earth under my body, tickling my chin and pressing uncomfortably into my scales. My eyes refused to open for a moment, as though they were sealed shut, and a thrill of panic surged through me. Something murmured nearby—a voice? I jerked one of my hind legs and forced my eyes open, desperate to escape the dreadful sense of vulnerability that had seized me. An ache throbbed at the back of my head as light stung my eyes.

A grunt of surprise sounded to my left. I whirled towards it before my eyes adjusted and saw only a shadowy blob of colour looming over me. I reeled backwards and tried to scream, but all that came out was a dry croak. Another blink and the world returned in startling focus.

There was a dragon sitting across from me, huge and bronze. Just one look was enough to tell me that he was almost as big as Terrador. A pair of colossal white horns curled backwards from his skull, and I couldn't fathom how heavy they must have been. Past the chiselled muscles and ropey scars that seemed to cover every square inch of his body, something seemed strange about him.

Before I had to chance to reconcile why, a wiry voice cut through the silence. "Welcome back to the land of living."

It clearly did not belong to the colossal beast of a dragon before me. My head reeling and my heart pounding, I looked wildly for the source of the voice and found it sitting calmly beside the dragon. He was small and thin, overshadowed almost comically by his giant companion. Something about his build recalled images of the cheetahs of Avalar, but his fur was courser and sandy brown. His face was also strange, long and angular with a sharp muzzle that ended in a shiny brown nose.

I'd never seen anything quite like him. My mind struggled to catch up to the sudden rush of stimulation. Images from my dreams still permeated my mind, some so vivid that they sent shivers down my spine. I couldn't fathom where I was, or how these two strange companions had suddenly appeared and where they'd come from. The harsh light of the sun blazing on the trees nearby, and the elongated shadows spreading across the grass, told me it was mid-afternoon or close to it. Had I slept all day?

The day before was a blur, and I struggled to remember what had happened.

Hunters. Spirit gem. Black veins. It was all so blurred. A million questions rose in my throat, but only one found its way through. My voice sounded like stones grating together. "Who are you?"

"Travellers," said the not-quite-cheetah. "My name is Arid, and this is my companion Tunc."

What bizarre names. I glanced halfway at the imposing dragon again, but he said nothing and my attention was drawn back to the unusual Arid. The question slipped out before my mind could stop me. "What are you?"

His mouth twitched upwards and he leaned forward, resting his pale paws on his knees. He was wearing a plain tunic the colour of sand that looked as though it had seen a lifetime of travel. "A jackal. My kind does not often come into contact with dragons. I'm not surprised you don't know."

I looked him over, from the tip of his large pointed ears to the bushy tail that lay in the grass beside him. The name of his species was one I'd ever heard before, but it seemed fitting for his unusual, exotic appearance. He had dark eyes—some of the darkest I'd ever seen—but nothing about him was threatening. Perhaps it was because he seemed so small beside the huge dragon.

Tunc. A strange name for a dragon. But it was short and strong, and as I once again looked him over, I decided it was fitting. Only then, with my mind clear of the fog of sleep, did I realise why he looked so strange. It was impossible, but he had no wings. His shoulders were completely bare, and if I craned my head right I thought I could see the remnants of a horrible scar parting his scales. The burning urge to know why and how he had no wings rose inside me, but I couldn't ask such a thoughtless question.

It was so strange to see a dragon without wings. Despite his imposing stature, it made him seem somehow smaller than he should have, and oddly out of proportion. A part of him was missing—a great big obvious part—and I couldn't help but stare. He stared back, his face impassive but his amber eyes blazing with some kind of inner fire. Perhaps he was daring me to ask.

Instead, I looked back at Arid. The jackal sat with his legs crossed, observing me in silence. I felt exposed under the gaze of both travellers, and at once I realised I couldn't stand the silence. Where had they come from? Why were they there? And what had happened to me?

The last I remembered, now that my memories of the previous day had sorted themselves out to some degree, was the spirit gem. I glanced across and saw it had regrown overnight. The veins of black were still there, lancing through the pastel colours like spilled ink. Could it be possible that it was the source of the strange nightmares I'd had?

"It seems only fair to ask," said Arid suddenly, and I whipped my gaze back to him. "Who are _you_?"

I stared at him for some time, pondering the question. Who was I? There were many things I could have said. Cynder, companion to the purple dragon, former Terror of the Skies, once servant to the Dark Master. But all such titles seemed folly. At that moment, I felt like nothing more than a dragoness who had lost her way. A dragoness who was utterly, hopelessly lost.

"Your name will do," said Arid, his dark eyes twinkling.

I averted my eyes. "Cynder."

"A dragon of ashes and cinders. Fitting."

I could almost feel him looking me over, and suddenly I wanted to hide myself away. Instead, I forced myself to look at him and asked the first question that rose on my tongue. "Why are you here?"

"That's a loaded question." Arid laced his wiry fingers together, never taking his eyes from mine. They were dark but somehow warm. "We're here because we're heading west and just so happened to pass through this place. We're here because we found a helpless dragoness unconscious in the middle of nowhere. We're here because we are not the sort of beings who would, in their right mind, abandon someone in need. And you looked quite in need when we happened across you. Right, Tunc?"

The wingless dragon nodded his huge head and spoke for the first time. His voice was like a bottomless ocean, deep and smooth. "You did."

I stared from him to Arid and back again. "You stopped to help me? Why? I was only sleeping."

"Out in the open? These lands aren't uninhabited. You were lucky we found you first." The smile fell from Arid's face suddenly. "And that looked like no restful sleep. It looked as though demons had possessed you. You body trembled and your face contorted into expressions of utmost distress. You cried for help, as though you were trapped in nightmares, unable to wake. Only sleeping, indeed."

"I…" A shiver passed over me and I clenched my paws. Had I really been so affected by those dreams? The details were quickly fading, but my mind clung to the vivid images of the hellish world my nightmares had constructed. The crystal landscape, the oozing monstrosities with the icy eyes… I shuddered involuntarily.

"That was no normal sleep," said Arid.

He couldn't see what I had seen, but still he was right. Something had affected my dreams; somehow, I was certain. My eyes strayed to the spirit gem once more, and I followed the flowing veins of black inside it. A part of me hoped I was just jumping to conclusions, but the coincidence was just too much to ignore. Even so, I couldn't understand how it was possible. I didn't want it to be possible.

What sort of power could taint the energy of the ancestors themselves?


	18. Phantom

**18  
**

**Phantom**

I wasn't sure how long we sat there in silence as I gazed into the tainted depths of the spirit gem. Those black veins seemed to taunt me, twisting fluidly as they dissected the once flawless colours beneath the surface. They reminded me I was far from home, in a place where things were different and out of my knowledge. They reminded me that, without Spyro, I was helpless to know what I was supposed to do. They reminded me that I was far out of my depth.

I was afraid. Strange and unnerving things were not unknown to me; I had faced them many times, and even overcome them, but never when I had been alone like this. What was I supposed to do? Everything was strange and unfamiliar; even the very energy of the ancestors was tainted. And Spyro was gone. I was on my own.

"Do you need help?" Arid's voice cut through my musings softly, but it was enough to make me flinch.

Abruptly, I realised my eyes were burning and my chest was tense. It wouldn't do to cry in front of strangers—or at all. There was no use in crying. I blinked the burn away and swallowed the lump that had risen in my throat. The words I forced out sounded harsher than I had intended. "I'll be fine on my own."

The jackal didn't reply, but nor did he take his eyes from mine until I was forced to look away from his unending stare. Guilt writhed in my stomach. Why couldn't I accept their help? The concern in his voice had been genuine, and his face showed it too, but I could not bring myself to accept. They had gone out of their way to ensure my safety when I had been in the throes of nightmares, and I could not bother them further. Whoever they were, they surely had better things to do than coddle me, a stranger.

Maybe it was better I moved on before things got any more awkward. But as I moved to stand up, Arid's voice broke the silence once more. "Where are you headed?"

I shot him a look, debating whether or not to say. But there seemed no harm in it, and they had been helpful thus far. "Sidian. I'm told it's a city to the east."

Tunc made a deep grunting noise and I whipped my gaze towards him, startled. He seemed to stare straight through me, and I'd never felt as small as I did in that moment, dwarfed in his colossal shadow. It seemed, without Spyro, I was still as unnerved around dragons as I had been as a scared hatchling experiencing life outside corruption for the first time.

"Don't," he said, his voice grim, and elaborated no further. I mouthed wordlessly and took an involuntary step back.

"What my friend means to say is that might not be a good idea." Arid was leaning forward, a sombre look darkening his features.

"Why…?" I started, but got no further before he continued.

"We just came from the east," he said, waving a paw away from the sinking sun. "From a little village called Stonegully. It's about a day's walk from here. Just before we left, there was…an incident."

The way he said those words made the scales on the back of my neck prickle. I didn't try to interrupt, and he hardly skipped a beat. "A beast of some kind—a phantom, if you will—came upon the village at night. It ravaged the southern side of the city, destroying buildings and attacking innocent civilians. The attack was quick and brutal, and the phantom had gone by the time the citizens of Stonegully could gain control of the situation."

"I…did get a glimpse of the creature; only fleeting, really." Arid's face twitched, and for a moment I thought I saw fear flash in his eyes. It was gone within moments, but something about his expression remained unnerved. "It was built vaguely similar to a dragon, but it seemed… Well, it looked to be formed of naught but smoke and darkness, as though it wasn't really solid at all. I didn't get a good look at its face, but I heard some of the civilians raving about soulless white eyes."

He shook his head. "Last we saw of it, it was heading east—towards Sidian. Whatever it is, it's dangerous and seems to have no concept of good or evil. A mindless savage beast, you could say."

My heart was pounding. It was not fear that made my mind reel—though, I admit it played a factor—but the images that Arid's words recalled. A mindless beast formed of darkness. Soulless white eyes. It couldn't be… Could it? My stomach clenched and I swallowed, finding my throat suddenly dry.

Could this be the first sign I had that Spyro was still in this world?

I didn't know what to feel. If this 'phantom' truly was him, that meant he was here. That meant he was nearby. Somewhere deep inside me, I could almost feel relief, but that sweet feeling was punctured by fear. If that phantom was him, that meant he had regressed into his dark counterpart that had awoken on the Night of Eternal Darkness. And he—_my_ Spyro—was harming innocent strangers.

I had to find him. He was not without reason even in that form, as I had found out on both occasions I had witnessed it. If anyone could return him to his previous self, I was certain it was me. I was the one who had done it before.

"If you want to avoid danger, perhaps you'd be best to stay clear of the east for some time," said Arid, breaking me from my thoughts. "If that phantom reaches Sidian, who knows what it could do."

Those words sent ice flowing through my veins. If I didn't get to him soon, he could kill someone and injure countless more. That was assuming it was Spyro at all. A seed of doubt rooted itself in the back of my mind. If it wasn't… Was I merely grasping at straws, hoping too desperately for a sign of my purple dragon? What if I chased a phantom halfway across the realms, only to find it was never Spyro at all?

I could be putting myself in danger for no reason, while the real Spyro was lost somewhere only the ancestors knew. But what choice did I have? If I didn't follow this lead, perhaps I would never find Spyro. While there was even the slightest chance that the phantom was him, I had to follow it.

I had to.


	19. Choices

**19  
**

**Choices**

A long silence followed in the wake of Arid's tale, but it was exactly what I needed to make my decision. I looked up, set with determination, and met the jackal's worried eyes. He wouldn't like my decision; that much was plain on his face.

"I'm sorry," I said. "But I need to get to Sidian. I'm looking for someone, and I think he might be there."

Arid considered me in silence, his face a mask that I couldn't read. At last, he sat back and folded his wiry hands in his lap. "If you must. We've warned you, at least, and that's all we can do."

Tunc gave a low grunt, perhaps in agreement, but his face told me he was not convinced. He didn't argue, however, and I was left wondering if he ever said more than a few words at a time. Perhaps it had something to do with his missing wings, or perhaps he was just of the silent sort. I didn't see fit to ask, but there was a different question that had risen in my mind.

"Where will you go?" I asked, looking from dragon to jackal curiously. They seemed like weathered travellers who had come a long way and had still further to go. Something about the way they carried themselves suggested such.

"We continue west," Arid said, nodding towards the sun. It was now close to the horizon, stretching our shadows to their limit. "To the coastal bridge."

I frowned. "Coastal bridge?"

"You don't know it?" Arid looked curious suddenly, sitting up a little straighter.

"I…haven't travelled much," I admitted, feeling foolish all of a sudden, as though this 'bridge' was something I should have known about.

"I suppose it's not too surprising…" He trailed off, looking thoughtful for a moment. Then he bent forward and placed one ivory claw in the dirt. "The coastal bridge is a narrow strip of land that connects the Sunrise Realms and the Sunset Realms."

He traced his claw through the dirt, drawing two large jagged shapes side-by-side. Then he connected them with a narrow path and sat up again, jabbing his claw at the shape on the right. "We're in the Sunrise Realms, see? The coastal bridge will take us to the Sunset Realms without having to fly or swim across the ocean."

He stabbed his claw into the left shape, and the breath caught in my throat. The other side of the realms. Where Warfang was. It had to be.

"Where… Why are you going there?" I stammered, tripping over my words in my rush to get them out. Warfang—were they heading towards Warfang?

Arid shrugged and answered nonchalantly, "Travel. There's a lot of places Tunc and I have yet to see, but we've travelled all over this side of the realms and we think it's time to move on."

I almost missed it, but he averted his eyes for just a second and I got the feeling that he wasn't telling the whole truth. Something about his expression was guarded, despite his relaxed words. I decided not to press the matter. Instead, I asked, "Do you know about Warfang?"

Arid looked mildly surprised. "The biggest dragon city in the realms? Who doesn't? I'd like to see if with my own eyes one day. All the more reason to head that way."

I almost wanted to laugh with relief, but I kept a straight face despite the grin trying to worm its way onto my muzzle. I was right—they were heading towards Warfang. Which meant… Which meant they could help me find my way. Warfang was no longer the lost city.

Something of my thoughts must have shown on my face—or perhaps Arid was still concerned about my decision to head for Sidian—because he met my eyes with a kind of uncertainty and asked, "I don't suppose you'd…want to come with us?"

My heart skipped a beat and I almost jumped at the chance. Almost. Sidian and the phantom that had attacked Stonegully rushed back to the forefront of my mind, and for a moment I felt like I had been torn in two. Two options were suddenly presented to me where moments ago I'd had naught but my own intuition to go upon. Go to Warfang and seek help from the dragons I knew, or follow the trail of a phantom that may or may not have been Spyro.

In that moment, I had no idea what to do.

Choices had never been my strong suit. The biggest choice I'd ever made had been to leave the Dragon Temple, and that had brought Spyro more agony than I had ever intended. I had been trying to help him; thought that things would have been easier for him were I, the former servant of the Dark Master, no longer around. But I had made things worse.

How was I supposed to make a choice like this? If I were to follow Tunc and Arid to Warfang, I could very well be damning this side of the realms to suffer under the wrath of the phantom that could have been Spyro. If I were to follow this phantom, I would not only be putting myself in danger but potentially following a path that would only lead to a dead end. The risks were there, whichever path I chose.

Only moments ago I'd been certain of my direction. Had that changed now that I knew I could find my way to Warfang? Maybe it hadn't. All of those thoughts I'd considered moments before still held true. While there was a chance that phantom was Spyro, I couldn't ignore it.

And if it wasn't him, at least I could help the citizens of this realm against whatever threat this phantom posed. Better I put myself in danger than innocent civilians. Warfang would still be there, regardless how long it took me to hunt the phantom down. I couldn't pass up this lead.

"I can't," I said at last, meeting Arid's eyes with certainty. This was what I had to do. "I must get to Sidian."


	20. Farewells

**20  
**

**Farewells**

Arid heaved a sigh and gave a sort of wry smile that seemed to say 'Well, I tried.' At once, I felt a rush of gratitude towards him. A complete stranger though he was, this jackal was one of the kindest souls I'd come across yet. It gave me hope for what the rest of his species was like, should I ever come across them. In another time, I might have been glad to accept his offer and gain him as a travelling partner.

"I guess we've no choice but to part ways, then," he said, resting his cheek in his hand. His eyes roved over me, and I shifted uncomfortably. "Sure you're alright now?"

"I'll be fine," I said shortly, trying to keep my face impassive. Igniting the concern of strangers made me feel like a fool—worse, a weak fool who could not take care of herself. True, I had been on the point of exhaustion the previous day and had essentially collapsed, but the energy of the spirit gem had given me what I needed. I was fine, and I would be fine without anyone's help.

Arid shrugged as thought to say 'fair enough' and started to get to his feet. I followed his example and found that, though my legs trembled for a moment, I could stand steadier than I could the day before. Even if the taint of the spirit gem had caused those strange dreams, at least the effects of its energy were still the same. I would survive on it at least until I found food.

"Best to get going," said the jackal, stretching his arms over his head. "There's still a little while until dark."

He yawned widely as Tunc clambered ungainly to his paws. He was even bigger standing up, and even Arid stood a whole head and shoulders taller than me. I suddenly felt very small. Something niggled at the back of my mind when I recalled they were heading west, but it wasn't until I glanced towards the sinking sun that I realised. The shadow of the canyon was still visible on the horizon.

"Just be careful," I said to them. "There are hunters in that canyon. I'd suggest that you spend as little nights in there as possible."

"The Bone Wolves, you mean?" Arid flashed me a smile that might have been grateful. "Don't worry, we're more than equipped to defend ourselves."

His hand inched down to the woven belt around his middle, and I saw the long curved scabbard hanging there for the first time. A roughly-carved wooden hilt protruded from the top, and I wondered if he'd carved it himself. Then my eyes strayed to Tunc, and I took in the colossal talons arching from his paws and the muscles bulging under his bronze scales. At once, I knew not to doubt Arid's words.

"Take care of yourselves, then," I said, returning my gaze to Arid. For once, I managed to quell my pride and added, "Thank you for your help."

"I'd like to think it's what anyone would do." Arid's thin fingers drummed the pommel of his sword and he looked towards the east. "You'll find Stonegully if you continue straight that way. At flying pace, it should take you a few hours at most. Maybe stop there for the night."

I nodded my thanks and turned away, unfurling my wings. As I did, though, I caught the look Tunc was giving me and, strangely, felt almost guilty. I shot him a brief glance, taking in his wingless shoulders once more, but didn't have the nerve to ask. Instead, I offered him a small smile, but he did not return it. As I looked to the east, the spirit gem glimmered in the corner of my eye and an idea struck me.

"One last thing," I said quickly, glancing back at Arid. "Do you know anything about why the spirit gems are like this? Have you seen any others recently?"

"The black veins, I assume?" Arid looked momentarily troubled. "I'm afraid I don't know much about your spirit crystals, but if it helps at all… We've only noticed those veins recently. Tunc has avoided them since, just in case. You might want to do the same."

Though disappointed they could offer no more information, I nodded my thanks and spread my wings out to their full span. If I wanted to reach Stonegully before sundown, I would have to leave immediately. Neither of my newfound acquaintances said a word as I took a running start through the grass and leapt skyward. The wind caught my wings and I soared above the tops of the trees, relishing the rush of freedom.

I glanced down to find Arid and Tunc staring up at me. The jackal had his hand in the air, no doubt in farewell, and I barely heard his voice over the roar of the wind in my ears. "Good luck, Cynder! If you ever feel like changing your mind, you know which way we're headed!"

I couldn't help but smile as I wheeled around and pointed myself towards the eastern horizon. If I ever did decide to change my mind, they would be the first ones I'd seek out. Just as I was about to pound my wings and shoot away, an impossibly deep voice called out over the wind.

"Stay safe!"

Startled, I looked back down to see Tunc turning away and heading after Arid, who was already walking towards the distant plateaus. Somewhere inside me, warmth bloomed. I watched them for just a little longer before I flew on, unaware if I would ever see those two again. Deep down, I hoped I would.


	21. At the Gates

**21  
**

**At the Gates**

It was shortly after sundown that the village of Stonegully came into view. A great wave of relief washed over me when I saw its stone walls under the moonlight, breaking the monotony of the plains. From this distance it looked untouched, but I still leered at the southern end of the town, expecting to see proof of the devastation that Arid had spoken of. In the dark, it was impossible to tell.

Tired as I was, I wasted no time in descending towards the town; maybe there I could finally get some food and a real good night's sleep. A large gate in the wall came into view as I soared closer, and I made a beeline for it without really thinking. My talons brushed the long grass and I landed with a slight stagger outside the wall. The gates, which looked to be made of iron, were closed. I stepped forward, brushing the grass aside, and gazed up towards the top of the gates. They were far above my head, curving into an arc that rose just above the tops of the walls.

Tentatively, I raised my tailblade to knock. Inches from the iron surface, I hesitated. With a wall this big, this was surely a bigger place than Earthridge—and who knew if the citizens were welcoming towards strangers. At least on this side of the realms, no one seemed to know who I was. Arid and Tunc hadn't shown recognition, and I'd even told them my name.

At least there were some benefits to being so far from home.

I rapped my tailblade three times against the iron gates with a loud clanging that someone had to have heard. But there was no answer for several seconds, and my nerves became gradually restless the longer I waited. Maybe they didn't allow outsiders in after dark. Just as I was about to knock again, a voice called down from the top of the wall.

"Who's 'ere?"

I jumped and looked up. A furry face was poking over the edge of the wall, a thick pair of goggles obscuring its eyes. Even in the dim moonlight, I recognised it as a mole. Maybe it was the distinctive shape of the nose. It was swinging its head to and fro, as though it hadn't seen me, and I wondered how good its eyes were. Then again, it was dark and I was black.

"Sorry to disturb you," I called. "I'm a traveller. Can you let me in?"

"Eh…" The mole fiddled with the giant goggles on its face. "C'n hardly see yous down there. Yous a dragon?"

"I am." I wondered if that made a difference. Would they let me in if I wasn't a dragon?

"Jus' a secon'." The mole's pointed face disappeared behind the wall again, and I waited for several tense seconds for something to happen. A cold wind blew across the plains, and I shivered at almost the same time my stomach growled. I felt exposed standing there in the darkness.

Just as I was beginning to think the mole had deserted me, a creaking groan came from the iron gates and they swung slowly inwards. Relieved, I hurried past the threshold and onto a rough stony street. The road led straight into the town, cutting through rows of stone houses that looked somehow foreboding in the darkness. I looked to my left, where some kind of gatehouse had been built against the inside of the outer wall.

The wooden door to the gatehouse was open, and a warm flickering glow emitted from within—fire from a torch, no doubt. As I stood watching, the gates behind me creaked again and I jumped. They swung closed just as slowly as they had opened, and settled into their former positions with heavy groans. The little mole came tottering out of the gatehouse, wiping his brow above his goggles.

"No wonder yous so hard to see," he said as he waddled over to me, fiddling with his goggles again. "Black as ink, you is. Where's you come from?"

I opened my mouth to answer without really knowing what to say. The words that came out surprised even me. "Earthridge. I'm travelling east."

"Trav'ller, eh? We gets a few o' those. Yous tired?"

"A little," I lied, thinking I could have just curled up and slept on the street right there. The energy of the spirit gem had kept me going for a few hours, but it was quickly wearing off. "Do you know where I can find somewhere to spend the night? And…something to eat?"

My stomach was aching. I wouldn't have been surprised if it had started trying to eat itself.

The mole's face crinkled with a smile. "I c'n show yous."

He beckoned with his tiny hand and I followed as he tottered along the street away from the wall. As the rows of houses rose on either side of us, the world seemed to get darker. The torches in their brackets on the doors of houses were unlit, and there was no glow from inside either. Only the moonlight was there to light the way. I hurried to catch up to the mole and fell into step beside him.

"Why is it all so dark here? Does no one keep their torches going? It's not that late… You'd think there'd still be dragons in the street."

"They's scared," said the mole without breaking stride, but I heard the grimace in his voice. "Bad things, see. Bad things happening. They's frightened the phantom be coming back. So theys hide away."

I glanced at the dark faces of the houses we passed, thinking his words over. "What did this phantom do?"

The mole shuddered visibly. "Bad things. Le's not be talking 'bout this, pleasums. This way."

He turned a corner abruptly and I followed, knowing it was useless to push for answers. He was obviously frightened and didn't want to be reminded of what had happened the previous night. I couldn't blame him, but it only made my fears deepen. If it was Spyro… I didn't want to think about it.

"Wha's your name?" the mole asked.

"Cynder," I said after a moment's hesitation. But, like Arid and Tunc, he didn't seem to recognise it.

"Pretty name," he said. "I's Sander."

Unsure how to respond, I merely settled with smiling awkwardly, but didn't know if he'd seen it. We continued in silence for a little while after that, until I noticed a faint warm glow at the end of the street. I picked up my pace almost absentmindedly, until I realised Sander and his stubby legs were struggling to keep up. Nevertheless, we reached the lit torch within minutes.

It was hung on the door of a large squat building, and further light was coming from inside, leaking through the cracks in the closed wooden window shades. I couldn't remember the last time something had looked so enticing. At Sander's nod, I approached the wooden door and pushed lightly against it. With nary a sound, it swung open and warm light fell across my face.


	22. Ashebel

**22  
**

**Ashebel**

As I stepped through the door, I noticed the long narrow fire pit in the middle of the room was blazing merrily, casting its light across the stone floor. A scattering of dragons sat around it, some with capes around their shoulders and one even wearing a set of old armour, though he'd removed the battered helm. Some of them looked up as I entered, but most didn't bother holding my gaze. Sander pointed me towards a doorway at one end of the room.

"Through there," he whispered. "Ashebel c'n help yous."

I turned to thank him, but he was already tottering out the door and within moments it had snapped shut behind him. Feeling oddly out of place without him there, I averted my eyes from the small crowd of dragons around the fire pit and made for the doorway Sander had pointed out. There was no door in the stone archway, and I poked my head around the corner curiously.

A lanky red dragoness lay sprawled across a mess of rugs and cushions that all looked to be woven from some sort of coarse material. A small torch on the wall behind her bathed the little room in orange light and made the white of her wings and underbelly look almost golden. There seemed to be nothing else in the room, save for a window above her head that had the shades closed.

Feeling awkward, I stepped fully into the room and cleared my throat. The dragoness's eyes opened, revealing reddish-orange irises.

"Are you…Ashebel?"

She raised her head slowly and her fiery eyes trailed over my body, as though she was sizing me up. "Traveller?"

Taken off guard, I took a moment to respond. "Ah… Yes."

With a wide yawn and a stretch, she clambered somehow gracefully off the messy pile of rugs and cushions. At full height, she towered above me, and I had no trouble assuming she was taller than the guardians. "Yes, I'm Ashebel. If you're looking to stay the night, feel free to bunk down around the fire with the others. Here."

She plucked a small rug with her teeth from the pile at her feet and tossed it to me. It landed in a heap at my paws, and I stared at it, confused. Ashebel gave a sigh. "You can sleep on stone if you want."

"Thank you," I said quickly, placing my paw on the coarse rug. I hesitated a second more. "Is there somewhere I can find something to eat?"

Ashebel's tired expression didn't change. "What can you offer?"

In my startled confusion, I didn't answer. Her gaze trailed over me once more and she heaved another sigh. "Not much, it seems. Very well."

She turned away and, with a powerful kick of her hind leg, shoved the pile of rugs aside. I flinched on instinct, and then noticed the trapdoor that had been revealed where the pile had been. Ashebele gripped the iron ring at its end in her jaws, and yanked it open. The stench of old prey suddenly filled the room, and my stomach growled loudly. Ashebele dipped her head through the trapdoor and came up with a fat rodent-like creature dangling from her jaws.

It landed between my paws before I registered that she'd tossed it, and I jumped.

"Take it," she said, grimacing. "I just wish there was more. No one wanted to go out hunting today."

She said nothing more and began to shove her pile of rugs back over the trapdoor. Recognising that I had been dismissed, I tossed the rug over my back and grabbed the dead rodent in my jaws. Though it smelled old, my stomach growled all the more with the scent of meat so close to my nose. It took all of my self control not to devour it then and there.

Glancing back at Ashebel one more time, I nodded my thanks, but she didn't seem to notice as she clambered back onto the rug pile. Eager to eat at last, I turned away and slipped back out into the main room. The warmth of fire washed over me, and I stepped carefully towards an unoccupied space on the floor near the armoured dragon. He glanced at me as I sat down, but said nothing and soon went back to staring into the flames.

I dropped the rodent onto the floor, looked up to make sure no one was watching, and dug in. Food had never tasted so good. I hardly cared that I probably looked like a starved savage; all that mattered was that I finally had _meat_. Within minutes, it was gone entirely—bones and fur included. I'd worked up a taste for bone marrow a long time ago, back in a stage of my life I'd rather forget. It had never really left.

My hunger sated at last, I let out a sigh and licked my muzzle clean. Then, following the example of the other dragons seated around the fire, I clumsily spread out the coarse rug Ashebel had given me and lay down on top of it. Though it wasn't as soft as grass, it was at least preferable to stone. A yawn snuck up on me, and I let it free as my body sagged.

A good night's rest would do me well.

I laid my head on my paws and gazed into the flames dancing in the pit, staring until they blurred before my eyes. Tomorrow perhaps I'd be able to find out more. But for now, I could rest with the knowledge that I was on my way to finding him.

It didn't take long for the warmth and the mesmerising dance of the flames to lull me to sleep.


	23. Remnants

**23  
**

**Remnants**

"See anything, Spyro?"

He flinches and jerks his gaze towards me. It is evening, and the twin moons are hanging in the sky, almost touching. Spyro has been staring at them for some time, but now he stares at me as though he has seen a ghost. He did not expect me to approach him. The smile that crosses his face is weak. "No. But I've got a bad feeling."

I cannot help but nod. Unease has hung like a cloud about the Dragon Temple these last few days. It is as though we are all waiting for something, but I do not know what. "Me too."

Spyro shifts uneasily and turns his gaze back to the moons. I can tell he is troubled by my presence, though my stature is no longer remotely intimidating. My new body is weak and small, and the confidence I had before is as faded as the memories that now seem like dreams to me. I am but a tiny fool in the shadow of the beast that everyone remembers.

Is this my fate? My punishment for the crimes I committed? I feel I have been doomed to insignificance, to be small and unnoticed like an ant at the foot of a mountain. The little hatchling I am now will not be remembered, but the Terror of the Skies will never be forgotten. The only memories I have feel as though they belong to another life, and I have nothing of my own.

Perhaps she did die that day, and I am all that is left—the unwanted scraps left behind.

Is that all I am?

"Is…is everything alright?"

His voice startles me from my thoughts. I find him staring at me, his eyes almost glowing in the darkness, reflecting the light of the moons. A memory returns to me; the only vivid memory that remains where all others are obscured by fog of the mind. I see his face in my mind's eye, power shining from his eyes as a void of purple essence opens around him. It is terrifying, and for a moment I am left breathless.

Then the image fades, and only his concerned face remains. Why should he be concerned? I have said nothing to threaten him, and this body is weak and useless. I am no threat to him.

"Why do you ask?"

"You seem…unhappy." His eyes seem to search mine, and I am struck by an impossible thought. He is concerned _for_ me.

Why?

Even he should only see the Terror of the Skies, because all I am is the remnants of her. How can he be concerned for the one who tried to kill him? No one is that selfless. There must be something more to his concern that I am not seeing.

"I do not have the right to happiness," I say, averting my eyes from his. Whatever he and his false concern are seeking for, I will not give him the satisfaction of giving in. Unhappiness. It is only right that I, the last of what is left of Malefor's servant, suffer that most trivial of punishments. Who is he to question that?

"That's not true. Everyone deserves to be happy." There is concern even in his voice, and he sounds as though he truly believes the naïve words he speaks.

I want to scoff, but it sounds obnoxious and cruel even in my head. Instead, I turn to look at him and our eyes lock. In that moment, my heart feels as though it has stopped. All I see is purple. Somehow I know—I just _know_—that he is sincere. There is nothing sinister behind his concern, and I come to realise that, perhaps, there _is_ someone that selfless. Words slip past my lips before I can stop them.

"I want to be happy."

He smiles.

…

Flames crackled beside my head and the dream shattered before my eyes. I raised my head sharply, the grogginess of sleep gone in an instant. Orange light flickered before my eyes, and everything around the dancing flames was too dark to see. My heart was hammering against my ribcage as though it wanted to escape.

I couldn't fathom why I had dreamed of that evening on the balcony, when Spyro and I had truly spoken for the first time. A pang unlike anything I had felt before lanced through my chest, and I curled up tighter. I could have called it 'homesickness', but it was not a home for which I longed. All I wanted was to see him again.

Something shuffled on the stone nearby, and I glanced edgily towards it. In the light of the fire, the armoured dragon was barely visible through the gloom. His battered helm still lay abandoned beside him, but the armour remained as though it was glued permanently to his dark blue scales. He was staring into the flames just as I had been, and there was a kind of hollow look in his eyes that reminded me of something I couldn't place.

As though he had felt my staring eyes, he glanced at me and our eyes met. He looked so tired and defeated that I could not help but pity him, whoever he was.

"Do you dream of your failures too?" he asked.

The question caught me by surprise, and I did not answer. At length, he looked away and resumed gazing into the flames. I continued to watch him, until the answer came to me—the reason why that look in his eyes was so familiar. He had the eyes of a defeated soldier staring Death in the face; one who had lost all that he had been fighting for. I had seen it countless times, and it had always been I who had ended their suffering. Death was the only cure to defeat of the mind.

I too gazed into the fire. Perhaps it was my tired mind, but I thought I saw images in the flames—cities burning, dragons dying, a dark dragoness rising from the cinders. I closed my eyes to block them out and laid my head upon my paws. Perhaps I was still nothing more than the remnants left behind after the destruction of the Terror of the Skies. Maybe I had fooled myself into thinking I could be something more.

But when I'd seen myself in Spyro's eyes, I'd seen a dragoness who was more than a crippled shadow of the Dark Master's puppet.

Only he saw me as something more.


	24. Devastation

**24**

**Devastation**

I awoke to silence and cold the next morning, opening my bleary eyes to find the fire pit had been put out sometime in the night. Everything looked strangely grey without the warm glow of the flames, and the next thing I noticed was that the room was deserted. All of the dragons that had been there when I'd fallen asleep were gone, leaving nothing behind but the rugs they'd slept on. A faint smell of smoke still hung in the air, and I gazed at the ashes and charcoal in the pit that was all that remained of the fire.

How long had I slept? The ache of exhaustion was all but gone from my bones, and I felt fresher than I had since waking up in the southern isles. It had only been a few days ago, and yet it felt like much longer. The sense of isolation was still there, though, and it returned in full force as I gazed around the empty room. Why was I alone?

The window shades had been opened, letting pale light stream through. Judging from its intensity, it had to be mid morning. Slowly, I got to my feet and crept around the fire pit towards the door. Just as I was about to push it open, a thought struck me and I cast a glance towards the archway through which Ashebele's abode was. It was utterly silent; either she was still asleep, or long since gone—just like everyone else.

I pushed the door open. It swung outwards without a sound and I squinted against the sudden rush of light. When the glare faded from my eyes, I found myself gazing at a lively street. Though not as busy as those at Earthridge, it was still full of dragons heading to and fro between houses, and the occasional mole. A glance towards the sun told me it was closer to midday than I had expected. I had slept for longer than I'd thought.

Pushing the door closed behind me, I stepped out into the street and took stock of my surroundings. The street stretched from east to west, and numerous others branched off it through rows of stone buildings. For a moment I stood there, unsure what to do, as dragons passed by without even looking my way. The option to leave immediately and continue to Sidian stood out, but somehow it didn't feel right.

There was something I had to do.

With a last glance around me, I picked out a viable side street and started towards the southern side of town. If there was anything I could find out in this town, it was what the phantom had done to it. Maybe that would help me figure out whether or not it really was Spyro—or at least start me on my way.

The walk through Stonegully was largely uneventful. Neither dragon nor mole looked my way, and I started to wonder if I was somehow invisible. But the further I got towards the southern end of town, the fewer civilians there were and the more out of place I felt. The scattering of dragons who walked these streets gave me suspicious looks, as though I had no place being there. A lanky blue dragon even did a double-take when he saw me, his eyes wide and terrified for a moment before he seemed to realise he'd misinterpreted what he'd seen. I watched his back as he moved on, wondering what he'd thought he'd seen.

Perhaps he'd thought I was the phantom returning to finish the job. My black scales were highly distinctive in this colourful earthy town.

Nevertheless, I continued onwards until the houses began to show signs of damage. At first it was minor—cracked stone, dark scorch marks, broken hinges. Voices in the distance grew louder and closer, and I began to see the full consequence of the destruction that had been wrought upon this town. Great chunks had been ripped from the sides of stone houses, rooves had been torn away, rubble and debris was scattered across the street, and at the end of the road a whole group of buildings had been levelled to the ground. The golden sandstone was marred with dark marks; whether from fire or some other unspeakable power, I didn't know.

As I approached the centre of this destruction, I noticed a group of dragons gathered amongst the devastation. They were heaving rubble off the street, piling it into large wooden wagons harnessed to a number of burly earth dragons. A tall red dragoness stood in the middle of it all, shouting orders, insults, and occasional encouragement.

"Put your back into it! You can do better than that!" She shoved an adolescent yellow dragon out of the way and braced her shoulder against the pile of crumbled stone he had been trying to move. With a grunting snarl, she threw herself forward, pushing the rubble across the ground towards the closest wagon. Then she wrapped her forepaws around it and heaved it off the ground, her growl of effort almost lost in the clamour as the rubble clattered into the wagon.

"That's how you do it!" she yelled, whirling around. The yellow dragon she'd pushed out of the way seemed to wilt, but threw himself back into the rubble with more vigour than before.

Cautiously, I approached. The red dragoness was familiar, but it was only when I got closer that I recognized her as Ashebel, the dragoness who had given me food the previous night. She seemed to glow with confidence and self-assurance as she stood there upon the rubble, ordering around dragons bigger and burlier than herself. I couldn't help but admire her flare.

A few of the dragons glanced at me as I approached, but though they gave me odd looks, none stopped what they were doing to intercept me. At last, Ashebel's eyes fell upon me and she fell silent, her eyebrow rising. I slowed to a halt and she walked through the rubble towards me, high-stepping daintily in a way that belied the harsh fire I had heard in her voice.

"You're the dragoness who stumbled in last night," she said, stopping in front of me and casting a swift glance over my body. "Come to work for your dinner?"

Her words surprised me, and for a moment I forgot what I had intended to say. Ashebel scrutinized me for a moment more, the line of her mouth thinning. "You're a scrawny little thing. Sure you can manage it?"

A pang of annoyance lanced through me and I fought to keep the scowl off my face. "I'm more capable than you might think. But I just came to look around."

"Oh?" Ashebel's expression didn't change, but there was a spark of interest in her eyes. "Really? What might you be looking for?"

I hesitated, casting a glance at the debris that was all that remained of a whole block of houses. The grunting and huffing of dragons clearing rubble filled the air, and I noticed the armoured dragon I'd seen the night before heaving stone into one of the wagons. "Can you tell me what happened here?"

Ashebel's expression darkened and she looked away. I followed her gaze, taking in the destruction that surrounded us. Could Spyro really have done this? It didn't seem possible. Not for the Spyro that I knew.

"There was an assault two nights ago; no warning. It attacked in the dark hours before dawn, levelling houses and injuring innocents. Within moments it was over; it's a miracle no one was killed. We still cannot wrap our heads around it. It was completely unprovoked." Ashebel shook her head and closed her eyes, as though gazing upon the ruins of her town was too painful.

My heart felt like it was in my throat. "And…the creature that attacked… Did you see it?"

Her reddish eyes fell upon me. "I did. Some say it was a dragon, but I do not believe that. The beast I saw was a monster formed of darkness, not a dragon. No dragon could have such disregard for its own species—or any species. It may have shared our form, but it was no dragon."

She sighed and shook her head again. "No mere dragon could wield such devastating power."


	25. Conclusions Drawn

**25  
**

**Conclusions Drawn**

Devastating power…

I gazed at the rubble that littered the streets, at the blackened scars upon the sandstone, and wondered. Her words sparked something in my mind, as though I had heard them before. Spyro was no mere dragon. Nor was Malefor. I didn't want to believe it, but the devastation laid out before me pointed to only one conclusion. A purple dragon had to have done this—if it had been a dragon at all.

A powerful earth dragon could have levelled a building, but not to such an extent. Nor could that account for the scorch marks. Whichever way I looked at it, this could not have been done by a single dragon unless that dragon could wield power far beyond any normal being. A dragon like Spyro.

A shiver crawled along my spine and I shook my head, hoping to be rid of those unwelcome thoughts. But they stayed there, clinging to the forefront of my mind, telling me what I didn't want to believe. Even in his brief lapses into darkness, Spyro had never done worse than end the life of the Ape King Gaul—and he had deserved what he'd gotten. To think that Spyro could have ravaged an innocent town completely unprovoked… It was too much to comprehend.

"What power?" I asked, my voice cracking. I felt Ashebel's eyes upon me as I tried to form my thoughts into words. "The creature… How did it do this?"

"It all happened so fast that I only caught flashes," she replied grimly. "Flashes of indigo. It blasted houses apart and gouged scars into solid rock. Not earth, electricity, fire or ice could have done that. It's almost like…like it was an entirely new element, one that no one has ever seen before."

Ashebel made a soft noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. "I thought I was mad at first, until others claimed to have seen the same thing. Indigo light… None of the elements we know of could have wrought such devastation upon our town. All the more reason to believe it was not a dragon, whatever it was."

I wanted to agree with her, but I could not. There was a painful lump in my throat and it felt as though icy cold claws were squeezing my heart. Indigo light. An unknown element. Memories flashed through my mind almost faster than I could follow—Spyro floating in the purple void of Convexity, his eyes glowing with power. The beam of indigo that had pierced through the centre of the Well of Souls. The lance of purple energy streaking from Malefor's open jaws.

It had never been given a name, and I had known it only as 'fury.' It had always made me think of Convexity, that strange not-realm where Malefor's spirit had been imprisoned for hundreds of years. An alien power that even I, somehow, had been able to harness—and I could only assume I had Malefor's corruption to blame.

If it was that power which had caused this ruin, what else could I assume? Everything pointed towards Spyro, for Malefor was long gone. Only he… Only he could have done this.

I closed my eyes and looked away, no longer able to gaze upon the ruin he had caused. Why? Why had he done this? What had caused him to lapse so badly into that feral alter-ego that he would do this to an innocent town? My chest ached, and I turned to leave. I'd seen enough. I had to find him before he did this again, or worse.

"You're leaving?" Ashebel asked, sounding almost curious.

I stopped in my tracks and tried to swallow the lump in my throat. My voice came out shaky, despite my best efforts. "There's somewhere I have to go. S…someone I need to find."

The sound of her pawsteps told me she was approaching, and then her shadow fell across me. I blinked my stinging eyes and looked up at her, unsure what to expect. Ashebel gazed down at me with a mixture of curiosity and…pity?

"I feel like something I have said has troubled you," she said softly, and I got the sense that she was trying to read into my expression. I fought to keep it blank. "Why _did_ you come here? What _are_ you looking for?"

I hesitated, panic rising as I tried to find the words to answer her. How would she react if I told her the phantom that had attacked her town was a friend of mine? That I was looking for him? No, I couldn't tell her that. But what could I say? Anything I said about myself could reveal things better kept hidden; no one there seemed to know of my past and it was better kept that way.

"You're a curious one," Ashebel said when I failed to respond. "Black dragons are rare around these parts; I assume you're a wind dragon from up north?"

"West, actually." The words slipped out before I'd even thought about them, but when I thought about it, it wasn't a lie. From what Arid had told me, Warfang and every other place I'd ever known was situated far to the west, on the other side of the realms.

Ashebel looked momentarily surprised, but then an odd closed expression crossed her face, as though she knew something that shouldn't be said. "I see. Where are you headed?"

"Sidian," I said without hesitation. "I'm told it's one of the biggest cities around these parts."

She nodded slowly, averting her eyes from mine and gazing at something in the middle distance. "Most go there…"

I gave her an odd look, but before I had a chance to question her, Ashebel shook her head and met my eyes again. Her smile seemed a little sad.

"Firn is heading towards Sidian too." She inclined her head towards the armoured dragon from the previous night. I noticed he had his helm on now. "At least, he was. He stopped here some few weeks ago and hasn't left since…"

Ashebel trailed off, never taking her eyes of the dark blue dragon in his battered bronze armour. I gazed from her to him and back again, wondering why she was telling me this. At length, Ashebel seemed to realise she was staring and softly cleared her throat, looking back at me. "I had considered going with him and we were making plans, but then there was the attack…"

She sighed. "I couldn't leave without helping with the clean-up. And Firn… I feel like I'm keeping him here. But with that creature heading towards Sidian, I don't feel safe letting him go alone."

There was a soft crunch as her talons tensed on the rubble around our paws. I looked up at her to find her gazing at the armoured dragon again, and suddenly I realised she wasn't telling the whole truth. She didn't want him to go; not just because it was dangerous, but because she wanted to stay with him. I saw it on her face, clear as day.

Somewhere inside me, a strange sensation bloomed; a lance of some unwelcome emotion that I couldn't place. She should have considered herself lucky. The dragon she wanted to be with was right there, only a few paces away. There was nothing stopping them from staying together if they wanted it enough.

At least she knew where he was.

At least she didn't have to worry that he might have a murderous counterpart that had already tried to raze one city to the ground.

At least she wasn't like me.

I flinched and shuddered as the thought crossed my mind, and banished it quickly. What was I thinking? This had nothing to do with me. No matter how much I wished that Spyro was there with me, that we had never been separated and his darkness had never been awakened, holding envy towards a dragoness I hardly knew would help nothing. But…

"If he's already stayed here for a few weeks more than he intended, I don't think he'd mind waiting a little longer," I muttered. The words had sounded blunt even in my head, but I didn't care. Ashebel had no reason to be agonising over this.

"Maybe," she murmured, and was silent for a moment. Then her eyes met mine. "What about you? It might be safer if you wait a few days before heading for Sidian, in case that creature is still around."

I scowled. "I'll be fine. It's important that I get to Sidian as soon as possible."

As I turned to walk away, her voice called out to me. "At least stay another night. I wouldn't feel right letting a young dragon like you fly off into dangerous territory."

I hesitated in mid-step. It was true that the sooner I found Spyro, the better—I couldn't risk a repeat of what had happened here—but Ashebel had taken me in and given me food without so much as demanding repayment. Ignoring her warnings would be some way to repay her for what help she'd already been.

I glanced over my shoulder. "I'll think about it."

She didn't try to stop me as I walked away.


	26. Leaving Stonegully

**26  
**

**Leaving Stonegully**

Though I wasn't really sure where I was headed, my paws took me, seemingly of their own accord, to the eastern wall. No one had tried to intercept me on my walk back through the town, even though in my thought-filled daze I had almost collided with a dragon or two. Eventually, I found myself standing in front of the wall, gazing up at the battlements far above me. I didn't understand why they needed such a large wall around such a small town. It wasn't much bigger than Earthridge. What need had they for such drastic defences?

I glanced to and fro along the wall. There was a narrow path that ran around the inside perimeter, and I could see the gate and the gatehouse several blocks to my right. For a moment, I considered heading that way to see if there was another friendly gatehouse mole who I could talk to. But a craving for solitude was making itself known, and I banished the idea.

Flaring my wings out, I tensed my hind legs against the stone and leapt for the sky. With a powerful flap, I careened to the top of the wall and circled once before touching down. My claws clattered on stone as I landed upon the battlements and gazed out towards the eastern horizon. Mountains rose in the distance, protruding towards the milky blue sky like blunt teeth. Beyond them had to be Sidian.

I shivered and my wings twitched involuntarily, as though begging me to spread them and take flight. I could do it. Nothing was stopping me from leaping off that wall, spreading my wings and soaring to the east, towards Sidian, towards Spyro. Just one leap and I would leave this wounded town behind. I'd promised Ashebel I'd think about her request, but I would likely never see her again once I left. Whatever happened to me, it was of no concern to her.

The sooner I found Spyro, the sooner everything could go back to normal. I couldn't let him do this to another city. The longer I stayed there in Stonegully, the further away he got—and maybe the closer he got to Sidian.

What choice did I have? I'd already made my mind up, even when I'd told Ashebel I would consider staying another night. It didn't matter. We would never meet again. This was my duty and my purpose—until I found Spyro, it would remain that way.

I took a deep breath and opened my wings. The cool breeze caressed them as I stepped to the edge of the battlements and set my sights on the distant mountains. To Sidian. To Spyro.

The heavy beating of larger wings filled the air, and I spun around as a gust of wind struck my face. A large dragon landed heavily on the battlements beside me, and I staggered backwards in alarm. It was only when my shock faded that I realised I recognized him. Dark blue; old bronze armour. It was the dragon Ashebel liked. What had she called him? Firn?

"Leaving already?" He gave an odd sort of smile and took a step closer.

I stood rooted to the spot. Why was he there? A scowl crept upon my face. "Ashebel sent you."

With those words, all pretence of casual friendliness was lost from his stance and his face. He sighed and looked away, his shoulders drooping into a more natural posture. "She told me she was worried about you. She thought you'd try to leave immediately. Guess she was right."

"And she sent you to stop me?" Indignant anger rose in my chest. These dragons had no right interfering in my life. They didn't even _know_ me.

Firn met my eyes again, and I saw his were a startling shade of purple. Like Spyro's. "I wanted to ease her worries, so I suggested I'd talk to you. I'm not trying to stop you, but maybe you'll listen to me more."

"Why would I do that?" I muttered, turning away from him. Who did he think he was?

"Because I'm from the west too." He sounded so grim that I couldn't help looking back into his face. His eyes were hard. "And I know what it's like to lose everything."

His words struck like a physical blow, and I swayed on my feet. I didn't understand. The way he was looking at me suggested that he knew something, or at least thought he did. Lose everything… Did he know about my situation? Did he know about Spyro? But he couldn't have known that.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said honestly, shaking my head. "I'm just looking for a friend."

His eyebrows rose a fraction. "Truly? If you say that's the case, I won't question it. Nobody likes to talk about it."

Talk about what? He might as well have been spouting nonsense. Frustrated, I turned fully towards him and plated my paws firmly against the stone. "Just tell me what you want to say and be done with it."

Firn sighed and shook his head. "I can't tell you're not one easily convinced. All I want to do is ease Ashebel's worries."

"Why should she be worried for me?"

"Because you're young, you're alone, and you're following that monster, whatever it was! Who wouldn't be worried?" he snorted and I took a step back, startled by the ferocity of his answer.

I opened my mouth to tell him to leave me be, that I didn't want his concern or Ashebel's, and that it was useless to worry about me, but a thought struck me halfway and the words that came out were not what I had intended. "If you're so worried, come with me."

Firn looked startled for a moment, and then he seemed to wilt. "I…I would, but Ashebel feels obliged to stay. I can't leave without her."

"Why?" I asked. "Why should she have to stay? It's not like she's the only one in this town who can help clean up what that phantom did. Who is she, anyway?"

"Someone who wants to help," Firn replied, shrugging his armoured shoulders. A small smile crossed his muzzle, and he gazed towards the southern side of town. "She opens her house to the lost and the weary; travellers with nowhere to go and nothing to eat. That was how I met her. I suppose it's in her blood, the want to help. She told me her father was a healer, but he went west when… Well, I'm sure you know. He never returned."

Know what? I opened my mouth to ask, but Firn cut me off before I got the chance. His eyes were suddenly hard and fiery, just like Spyro's whenever he was determined about something. "All I want is to make her happy! I hate to see her agonizing over something like this. So please, just stay for a few more days—at least one more night longer. Put her mind at ease. There's more than just that phantom out there. The bone wolves hunt in these parts, and I'd hate to see what they'd do to a lone dragoness like you."

His eyes swiftly grazed over my form, and I knew at once he was sizing me up. I was hardly even half his size, thin and frail compared to his muscled forelegs and bulky torso. But that didn't mean anything. I was the one who had faced Malefor and survived.

"I can take care of myself," I told him coldly, turning away. It didn't matter to me how much Ashebel worried. I hardly knew her, and she hardly knew me. There were more important things I had to worry about. "Tell Ashebel I appreciate her concern, but I know what I'm doing."

I flared my wings again, but Firn's paw slammed down on my tailblade and I staggered backwards. Anger burst like flames in my chest and I turned a snarl on him, but he didn't waver. I faltered, suddenly put out by my inability to intimidate. It had always come easily to me as the Terror of the Skies, but back then I'd been larger, sleeker, and far more dangerous. Firn didn't bat an eyelid.

"Just consider it," he begged.

I wrenched my tail free paw and he winced, snatching his paw back in the same movement. A sheen of red glistened on the pad of his paw, and I realised I'd cut him with the blade of my tail. A spike of guilt lanced through me. "I'm sorry. My answer is no."

Firn gazed at me sadly, slowly setting his paw down. "I guess first impressions are to be trusted, then. I knew you weren't to be convinced. Take care of yourself."

I nodded stiffly and turned away, preparing to take flight. Just before I leapt from the wall, I glanced back at him. He looked so defeated in his battered old armour, and at once a memory that I'd almost forgotten flared in my mind.

_Do you dream of your failures too?_

"…Stay with Ashebel," I said, looking to the horizon. Without another word, I leapt from the wall and spread my wings to their full span. The wind caught them and I soared above the plains, heading east again at last.

I might have imagined it, but I thought I heard him say 'I will.'

* * *

**A/N: Hi guys, looks like I'm breaking my prediction and adding another author's note. I wanted to say thanks for all of the support so far. Glad you're all enjoying this little fic. Unfortunately, I'm not handling the 'once a day' updates as well as I'd hoped, and it's leaving me with no energy to write my other stories. So I'm cutting it down to one update every second day for a while, just to give me a little break. This might continue until the end of the story (whenever that might be) or I might go back to daily updates when I feel up to it, but for now that's the situation.**

**Thanks so much for reading, everyone! I'm making this all up as I go, but hopefully it's turning out alright. xD Next chappy will be the day after tomorrow. Thanks for your support. :]**


	27. Lonely Obscurity

**27**

**Lonely Obscurity**

By late evening, Stonegully was but a distant haze on the horizon behind me, and the eastern mountains were so close I could make out the dense forests of tall trees that grew upon their slopes. The setting sun glinted off a river that wound its way through a valley between mountains, and I angled myself towards it, enticed by the promise of water. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a drink or a wash. My scales were likely caked with all manner of filth.

The wind had picked up over the course of the day, and it buffeted me to and fro as I descended towards the banks of the river. My wings, already tired from hours of flight, threatened to give out with every flap and every wayward gust. I landed unsteadily on coarse grass, stumbling sideways into the trunk of one of many trees that grew around the river banks. Shaking the sudden dizziness from my head, I folded my tired wings to my flanks and stumbled over to the water.

It was a slow-moving river, but the wind sent shallow ripples flowing across its surface. As I stooped to drink, I caught sight of a distorted reflection and drew back in surprise. A face—my face—stared back at me from the water's surface, looking just as startled as I felt. Only then did I realise this was the first time I'd seen myself since waking in the southern isles. No, before that. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen my reflection.

My eyes were tired and sunken, and dirt had gathered in the corners of my scales, leaving streaks across my face. My white horns were stained almost brown in places, and the choker around my neck had lost its shine. I looked exhausted.

Heaving a sigh, I lowered my muzzle to the water again and drank for the first time in days. The cool liquid was almost as refreshing and invigorating as the spirit gem had been, and I drank deeply until I could stomach no more. Wrenching my head from the water, I took in a great gulp of air and swiped the droplets from my muzzle.

I hesitated for a moment, considering the river and my reflection. I could just see the pebbled bottom beneath the surface, distorted by the ripples. It looked shallow enough that I could have stood and still had my head above the water. I snorted and threw caution to the wind.

The cool water nipped at my scales as I thrust my forelegs into the river and my claws hit the bottom before it reached my chest. Shivering but emboldened, I stepped fully into the water and froze as its cold embrace surrounded me. It rose to my neck as I crept towards the centre of the river, and I let out a sigh as my body began to adjust to the cold. I could feel the water flowing past my scales, stripping away layers of dirt and dust and soothing my aching wings.

With a quick glance around me to ensure nothing and no one was in the immediate vicinity, I shut my eyes and dipped my head below the surface. The cold nipped at my face like tiny fangs, and I held my breath as I was completely engulfed by water. The pebbles shifted under my claws and I almost drew in a gasp, only to receive a mouthful of water. I wrenched my head above the surface, coughing and shaking droplets from my face. They glinted like gems as the light of the setting sun caught them.

Rubbing the water from my face, I glanced around at the banks and noticed something I hadn't seen before. A small grove of spirit gems lay partly hidden amongst the trees on the other side of the bank, their pale pink glow beckoning me enticingly. There were at least three separate clusters from what I could see, and I waded through the river towards them.

Hauling myself back onto the bank, I shook most of the water from my scales and started towards the gems. As I got closer, however, the black veins spreading through them became all too apparent. I scowled, but approached them all the same. They looked just like the one I'd seen the other day, inflicted by whatever disease caused those inky veins to spread.

I didn't know if I had the guts to break them. The one before hadn't seemed to have caused me any physical ill, but the nightmare I'd had that night still lingered in my mind. It was only a hunch, but was I brave enough to test my theory? I didn't want to spend another night trapped in the throes of nightmares while alone and vulnerable in the wilderness.

But the pinkish shimmer of the spirit gems was so enticing, and I yearned for the rush of energy it would provide.

For a moment I stood there, riddled with indecision, unable to sway my thoughts in either direction. At last, heaving a sigh, I stepped into the middle of the crystal grove and sat down. It was almost dark, after all, and I had need of a place to spend the night. Even if I was not brave enough to break them then, I would at least have them close by if some hostile creature were to surprise me in the night. I felt safer just to have them nearby.

Amongst the spirit gems, I curled up on my stomach and watched the sun set over the distant haze that was Stonegully. What were Ashebel and Firn doing now? Maybe they'd already banished me from their minds. I wouldn't have been surprised. I'd known them for less than a day, and there was no reason for them to keep me in their thoughts. No one could forget the Terror of the Skies, but without her memory hovering like a shadow by my side there was no reason for anyone to remember me.

I was a stranger in this world. It was an odd feeling. I was only on the other side of the realms, and yet it felt as though I was in a world entirely unconnected to the one I'd lived my whole life in. No one knew who I was. Nothing was familiar. Everything was different.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a little dark thought rose unbidden. If only they saw me as the Terror of the Skies. At least that would be better than this lonely obscurity.

With that bitter thought in mind, I let my head rest upon my paws and closed my eyes.


	28. Fear

**A/N: My deepest apologies for the sudden unexplained absence. I required a break and so I took one. Now here's a bit of action to jump back into this.**

**Regarding update speed, I'm going to try for daily updates again if I can, but I might skip a day here or there. For now, enjoy~ **

**28  
**

**Fear**

I was snapped into wakefulness some time in the night by a howl that broke into my dreams and shattered them like glass. My first instinct was to defend myself and I surged to my feet in an instant, the daze of sleep already gone, leaving my head miraculously clear. I staggered backwards into the cold fingers of a spirit gem and tried to peer through their pale pink glow, but saw only darkness outside the circle of light.

Another howl ripped through the night, so close that it made the scales on the back of my neck prickle. I snarled on instinct and lowered my stance, glaring into the dark for any sign of my hunters. Paws were drumming the earth nearby, sending faint tremors through the ground that I felt up through my forelegs. They were closing in.

Fight or flee? I found myself caught between opposing instincts, and fear made my heart thunder in time with the rhythm of the approaching paws. Which way were they coming from? I spun around, seeking the source but finding nothing. There was no way I could flee if I could not tell where the hunters were coming from. I could have run straight into their hungry jaws.

Growling softly, I pressed my hindquarters against one of the spirit gems and narrowed my eyes into the shadows. The drumming drew closer, closer, closer. The urge to flee intensified with every second, and then I caught a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. I whirled towards it, but only blackness met my gaze.

Something growled behind me and then again to my left. I spun around again, heart in my throat, and caught a glimpse of dark fur in the pale glow from the gems. Another growl sounded behind me once more, followed by a guttural bark that caused fear to explode like ice in my veins. Creatures burst out of the darkness, their snarls ringing in my ears, and I dropped to the ground on pure instinct, rolling sideways.

Paws slammed into the ground inches from my head and something caught me a blow to the hindquarters that slammed me against the nearest spirit gem. It shattered on impact and there was a chorus of yelps and whimpers as a sudden explosion of light banished the darkness. I raised my head, sucking in a gasp as the energy of the spirit gem whirled around me and dove into my scales. Power filled me like a warm breath of air, tingling on the edges of my scales like electricity. It was almost possible to ignore the uncomfortable crawling sensation that crept along my spine.

Before the glow had fully faded, I caught a glimpse of the creatures that surrounded me. They looked just like the hounds I'd seen in the canyon, and they paced to and fro as my scales glowed with pinkish light, snarling and waiting for their chance to attack. The spirit gem's power had clearly startled them, and I knew that was the only reason I wasn't already dead.

Thanking whatever ancestors were watching over me, I lurched to my feet and bolted. One of the wolves snapped at me as I leapt free of the circle of light around the gem grove, but I avoided its fangs and fled into the darkness. Trees and shrubs loomed out of the shadows in front of me as I ran blindly, and I barely had time to avoid them and still keep my feet. The wolves thundered behind me, a chorus of growling, snarling and panting lending fear to my heart and wings to my paws.

The grass felt slick and cold beneath my paws, threatening to rob me of balance and send me sliding into the nearest tree, but I pushed my body past its limits until it felt like I was almost flying over the ground. I couldn't spread my wings for fear of clipping a tree, and at this speed that could spell disaster. But my chest burned with every leap and every thud of my paws meeting the ground. I could feel the hot panting breaths on my tail.

I couldn't keep this up. Sooner or later they would catch me, and I would be devoured like a common piece of prey. That would be the end of me. The end of Cynder. Former Terror of the Skies fallen prey to a pack of insentient wolves in the middle of nowhere.

No.

_No_.

I dug my claws into the ground, gathering the essence of fear in the back of my throat, and whirled around. The dirt parted around my claws, and the face of the closest hunter loomed inches from my muzzle before I opened it and screamed. It was a scream that echoed from the deepest recesses of my throat. A scream that seemed to rent the air into shreds and carried with it a song of fear more intense than the most deep-rooted terror. A scream that glowed with vivid crimson light and lit the night like fire.

The wolves reeled back, yelping and whimpering pathetically as the light washed over them, tinting their dark fur red like blood. Some of them became suddenly rooted to the spot as though my scream had turned them to stone, and others stumbled over themselves in their desperation to get away. I snapped my jaws shut, swallowing the lingering remnants of power tingling on my tongue, and eyed my pursuers distastefully only for a moment.

It wouldn't be long before my siren scream wore off. I whirled around and fled through the trees once more, leaving the fear-frozen hunters behind. Their fitful whimpers faded into the distance, but I didn't stop running until my lungs started to burn and my paws began to ache.

I stumbled to a stop and lowered my head, taking great gulps of air in an attempt to catch my breath. There was no sign of the hunters any longer and the night was eerily silent as I stood alone in the grass. There was a cold burn in my chest that refused to abate and I staggered over to sit at the base of a tree. It was still dark, and likely many hours before dawn, but I fought back the tiredness that was slowly beginning to return.

I'd absorbed another spirit gem. I hadn't even meant to, but its power and its taint was now flowing through my veins. What would I see if I let myself succumb to sleep? I shuddered just to think of it.

At least the gem had done one good thing. My elements seemed to have returned, at least to some degree. There was still an ache of exhaustion deep in my gut, but it was faint and easily ignorable, unlike that which I'd suffered only days before. The ancestors must have been watching over me. I could only hope they continued to do so for the rest of the night.

There was no way I could allow myself to sleep. Not now.

As the cold burn faded from my chest, I got slowly to my feet and scanned the darkness. I couldn't even tell which way I had come or which way was east, for even the stars and the moon were dark this night, obscured by a thick blanket of cloud. But I had no other choice. With no true direction, I turned and walked into the darkness.

There would be no more sleep for me that night.


	29. Mountains

**29  
**

**Mountains**

As the sun rose, the world became tinted in violet-grey and the oppressing clouds did not lift. I soon noticed that my blind stumbling in the dark had taken me somewhat northward, but my pace had been slow and I doubted I had gone too far from my original route. The eastern mountains were still visible rising above the plains and, as I at last saw them through the half-light, I adjusted my course towards them.

My eyelids felt heavier with every step, but I pushed on, hoping to break through the barrier of tiredness again. All my body wished was to collapse and rest, and my spinning head agreed, but I could not allow it. Only the lingering energy of the spirit gem gave me the strength to continue as the mountains crawled closer and the sun continued to rise.

Eventually, more in an effort to keep myself awake than any need to travel faster, I spread my wings to take to the air. Without the strength to leap skyward from a standstill, I resorted to a running start and leapt at the crest of a shallow hill. My wings almost skimmed the grass as I beat them and I wobbled as I forced myself higher into the sky. The rush of wind against my face woke me from my stupor of tiredness and, with a sigh of relief, I turned myself towards the mountains.

The speed of flight astounded me after several hours of tottering on tired paws through the plains. As I sped through the air at a steady pace, the mountains seemed to rush towards me as though they wanted me to reach them. The wind ripped tears from my dry, tired eyes as I focused on the craggy peaks and urged myself just a little faster. The need to sleep was forced to the back of my mind.

By the time the sun had fully risen and the day was bright and grey, I was soaring between the closest peaks of the mountain range. The tips of my wings skimmed inches from the uneven faces of stone as I dived through a crevice and levelled out over a sparse forest growing on the edge of the slope. Tell-tale glints through the trees promised more groves of spirit gem, but I ignored them and continued. I didn't need any more of their tainted energy.

It was mid-morning, or so I estimated, when I had to concede that my wings were simply too tired to carry me any longer. Every feeble flap threatened to tip my weary body to the forests and slopes below, and my eyes had become increasingly blurry over the course of my flight. At this point I could hardly see where I was going, and all my eyelids wanted to do was close.

It was either stop and rest or fall to my death. I knew which I preferred.

I dipped towards the forest below and sought out a landing place. A flat shelf of rock jutting from the mountain slope caught my eye and I angled towards it, bracing myself for impact. My paws struck the stone with a heavy thud that trembled painfully up through my forelegs and I staggered forward to catch my balance. With a sigh, I collapsed to my hindquarters and rubbed my irritated eyes.

The full weight of my tiredness pressed down on my shoulders and I sagged on the rock, trying to keep my eyes open. The lack of sleep combined with my flight from the hunting wolves was taking its toll. Even with the spirit gem's power still flowing through my veins, I needed to sleep.

Gritting my teeth, I forced my eyes open and cast my gaze over the mountain slopes. I could see over most of the nearby forest from my vantage point, and to the slopes of the opposite peak. There was no sign of life and only the wind broke the silence as it howled through the crags of the mountain range. The wolves were night hunters, or so I had gathered from my encounters with them. Surely I would be safe there, if only for a few hours?

It wouldn't be easy for any creature without flight to reach me on this shelf of stone high upon the mountain peak. Surely, surely, I would be safe for a few hours of sleep.

Even if not, my body had already made its decision. It sagged to the stone and I let it relax as I lay my head beside my paws. Just a few hours…

"Don't dream," I whispered as I closed my eyes. Maybe, just maybe, the ancestors would answer my plea.

They didn't.


	30. Another Nightmare

**30  
**

**Another Nightmare**

Invisible creatures were crawling up my legs like tiny spiders skittering over my scales. I twisted furiously, trying to see them, to get them off, whatever they were, but I saw nothing and they only crept higher. Empty darkness stretched all around. I yelled for help, but the blackness seemed to swallow up my words.

The invisible bonds tightened around my legs and crept towards my chest. I tried to raise my paw to swipe them away, but it refused to move. Panic spread through my veins like ice-cold poison. I wanted to scream, but no sound would leave my mouth. I was empty of everything. There was no air in my lungs, no voice in my throat, no blood in my veins. I could not pull away for there was nowhere to escape to.

A strange sensation rippled up from my paws, as though they were slowly being absorbed into the blackness beneath them. I tried to struggle, but my body stayed rigid from the tip of my tail to the crown of my head. I may as well have just been a statue in the darkness. A silent gasp of terror rolled up my throat and escaped between my frozen lips, and then I was falling.

My body spun and tipped and tumbled nauseatingly through the darkness, suddenly as limp as an empty sack. I tried to claw at the blackness, but my paws would not heed my command. It was as though I was not in control of my body any longer. It was merely a shell that I was a prisoner in. And it was falling…falling…

A whirling vortex of black, grey and purple exploded before my eyes, wrapping around me and engulfing my body. The erratic dance of colours filled my vision until I could see nothing else and I uttered a soundless scream as I fell into their depths.

_No._

_Please no._

_Anything but that._

The vortex exploded and whiteness filled my vision. Somewhere, as though from far away, I heard someone howl in defiance and anguish. It might have been me.

…

I was floating above the earth. For a moment it looked perfect and awe-striking, a patchwork of green and gold stretching as far as the eye could see. Tiny forests grew on the slopes of mountain ranges and distant bodies of water glistened like crystal under the sunlight. Miniature sandstone settlements sprawled over the earth, joined by a network of winding roads that cut through golden grasslands and wound over hill and dale. I could see all of it and more, and I was higher than I had ever been before.

Then blackness began to crawl at the edges of the patchwork. It crept across the landscape, slowly at first, like fingers of ink inching their way across a page, picking up speed with every passing second. A cold feeling spread through me and I wanted to flee, but could only watch in horror as the darkness spread. Mountains and plains were engulfed by the inky tendrils. Forests and cities fell to the darkness as a great lake of black drowned the land.

A silent scream seemed to hang in the air; a scream echoed by thousands upon thousands of voices as the world was engulfed in shadow and ink. The sky turned grey and sickly, and great growths of indigo crystal erupted where nature had once been.

I couldn't look away, no matter how much I wanted to.

The world seemed to tip suddenly and my vision spun as everything around me spiralled out of control. I was falling again, tumbling through the air like a puppet with its strings cut, and the dark landscape below was rising up to meet me. Closer, closer it loomed as my vision filled with black and the wind rushed past my horns.

There was no time to scream. With a heart-stopping jolt, I collided with the darkness and it engulfed me entirely.

A paw grabbed my shoulder. I screamed and thrashed to get away, lashing out at whoever or whatever it was that had captured me. There was a ringing in my ears trying to drown everything else out, but I heard a deep-throated grunt of surprise and pain nearby as my tail struck something hard and solid. The pressure on my shoulder lifted and I struggled to find my feet, unable to tell which way was up. A blur of colour turned in front of my eyes and I collapsed uselessly on rock, gasping for breath as my vision cleared. The ringing continued to whistle unabated in my head.

A blue face swam before my eyes, vaguely familiar. I stared at him and he stared back. All I managed to croak out was a single word. "You…"

"Are you okay?" said a voice.

I turned my head towards a ruby-red figure and stared as everything finally came back into focus. A red dragoness stood before me, her head craned towards a blue dragon at her side. I couldn't tell whether her words had been directed towards him or me, but I recognized her. Both of them.

"Ashebele?" My voice sounded like crumbling stone. I cleared my throat softly and winced. It was drier than a desert.

Her head swivelled towards me and I knew for certain that it was her. The smallest of smiles touched her muzzle but was gone again in an instant. "Back to your senses now? It looked like you were having one heck of a nightmare."

Her words struck a chord in my head and a rush of images flowed through the forefront of my mind. Right… Dreaming. Those had been dreams. The ringing in my head was abating, and I gazed out over the forest below the shelf of stone I'd chosen to sleep on, just to be sure that none of it had been real. There was no darkness, no fingers of ink spreading over the landscape, just bright sunlight and a grey, overcast sky. The forest and the mountain slopes looked untouched.

I breathed a sigh of relief and looked back at Ashebel. She was frowning at me, but my gaze slipped past her and settled on the blue dragon instead. Even if I hadn't recognized his face, his armour was a dead give-away. One of his forepaws was clamped over his opposite foreleg and, as I watched, he shifted it slightly, revealing a fresh cut still weeping blood. It took a moment for the realization to click. I glanced at my tailblade.

"Sorry," I said, turning back to him. "I thought you were…"

"Attacking you?" Firn offered, removing his paw fully from the thin wound I'd accidentally inflicted upon him. "Understandable. My father always said it was a bad idea to wake someone from a nightmare."

"Night-terror, more like it," Ashebel muttered.

I drew in a deep breath and pushed myself upright. Their presence made me feel small, and despite the shaking of my limbs I wanted to be on even ground with them. The nightmares were still fresh in my mind and they sent chills down my spine, but I tried to push them away as I focused on the new arrivals. I would be lying if I said I'd expected to seem them again.

"Did you follow me?" I asked, and the words came out more accusing than I had intended.

Ashebel's eyes hardened like steel and she drew herself up, towering over even Firn. I tried not to cringe. "We wouldn't have had to if you hadn't just _left_. We would have come sooner if I hadn't had to make a few preparations."

"I told you," I began weakly, wilting under her stare. Nightmares and exhaustion seemed to have robbed me of the defiance I'd had when I'd left Stonegully. Right then, I only felt small and useless. "I can take care of myself. Besides, I thought you had to stay."

Ashebel snorted. "Did you really think I was going to let a lost young dragoness travel to Sidian alone?"


	31. Encounter

**31  
**

**Encounter**

"But why did you follow me?"

It was a question that had been burning in my mind ever since I had awoken to find them standing over me, and as we soared through the mountain peaks I couldn't hold it in any longer. Ashebel glanced across at me, the tips of her wings almost brushing mine. Their span was huge and I felt uncomfortably small at her side.

Why was she there? Why were either of them there?

"Didn't I already say?" she called over the wind, raising a slender eyebrow.

I tightened my jaw, distractedly chewing on nothing as I tried to organise my thoughts into words. She had come after me because of a fear that something untoward would befall me on my way to Sidian; that much I understood. What I could not understand, no matter how I tried to, was _why_. Why did it matter to her? Why did _I_ matter to her?

"Why do you care what happens to me?" I asked. The words sounded harsh even before I spoke them, but I couldn't take them back. It was a question I needed answered or I would never understand.

Ashebel's expression didn't change. "Why shouldn't I?"

I opened my mouth to respond, only to realise I could think of nothing to say. Frowning, I closed it again and looked away, squinting into the wind. Why not? I thought about it as we soared over another small forest on the edge of the mountains. The answer should have been obvious, but I struggled to untangle the half-formed thoughts that twisted my mind.

"Because…" I started slowly, "because you don't know me."

"Should that matter?" Ashebel asked before I'd managed to say anything more.

The threads I'd been grasping at were banished, and I was left momentarily empty-headed by her response. Should it? Before I could reconcile my confused thoughts, Ashebel continued.

"Have you ever heard the saying 'the kindness of strangers?" When I shook my head, she went on. "Just because we've only just met doesn't mean we should treat each other with coldness. You have a conscience and so do I, and mine was telling me that you needed help. So here I am. It's not that complicated."

I scowled at her last words and the insinuation, intentional or not, they carried with them. True, I did not understand, but that did not make me a fool. My voice came out harsher than usual. "I have not experienced this 'kindness of strangers' before."

That wasn't entirely true, my mind told me. But Spyro was special. It was what I had always believed. There was something about him that was inherently selfless, and I'd never expected to receive such kindness from anyone else but him.

Ashebel was silent for a moment and I got the sense that she was watching me, though I kept my eyes on the sky ahead. Her voice was soft when she spoke. "You've been alone for a while, haven't you?"

I grunted in reply and did not elaborate. Somehow I had a feeling that she did not mean 'alone' in the physical sense.

"Just trust me when I say we want to help you," said Ashebel in a tone that suggested the conversation was over.

Part of me wanted to argue, to tell her that I couldn't trust anyone so easily, but I let it slide. For now, I could at least accept her help even if I did not feel comfortable to give her trust in return. I couldn't remember the last time I'd trusted anyone other than Spyro. I wasn't sure I ever would.

We flew in silence for some time, soaring past the peaks and over the alpine forests. Ashebel assured me that Sidian was not far beyond the mountain range, and that we would reach it within a day or two at this pace. The thought caused a shiver of anticipation to ripple up my spine. Soon I would find him again. Soon I would know what had befallen Spyro. Soon I wouldn't be lost any longer.

Night rolled in faster than I had anticipated and, though Ashebel and Firn insisted we stop, I was still eager to continue. Regardless, I found myself unable to argue with them and we alighted on the slope of a craggy mountain peak where we found shelter amongst the crevices and overhangs. While Ashebel started a fire with nothing but her elemental breath, Firn left to hunt and returned with the carcass of some sort of hoofed creature he called a 'goat'.

With hunger satisfied and the sky growing darker, Ashebel and Firn soon drifted to sleep, but I remained awake. A crawling restlessness had taken root in my veins and I could not find sleep. I lay for some time gazing at the little orb of fire that Ashebel had created and left floating an inch above the ground. It became dimmer with every passing second.

Where was Spyro now? I wondered what he was thinking, if anything at all. Maybe he was still conscious, even inside the darkness of his mind. Maybe he felt just as lost as I did.

I wondered if he missed me at all.

…

An ungodly shriek tore the silence to shreds and I jerked awake with a choked gasp. My heart was hammering in my chest as I scrambled to my paws, whirling around in search of whatever monstrosity was hunting us in the night. I saw nothing but darkness all around, and the weak blue glow of the moon illuminated the trees and stone nearby. Silence returned as quickly as it had been broken.

Shakily, I raised a paw and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Ashebel's fire had long since gone out, and she and Firn looked to be still fast asleep. They hadn't even heard what I had. Maybe it had been in my dreams, after all. But it had sounded so real… Chills crawled along my spine at the mere thought of it.

I mustn't have been sleeping deeply to have awoken so easily, and I felt as though I hadn't slept at all. It could have been less than an hour since I had drifted off, as far as I could tell. Licking my dry lips, I gazed around at my dark surroundings, but the moonlight illuminated no danger and no sign of any other life in the area. It was only me and my companions.

Slowly, I lowered myself back to the ground. Before I could even relax, another howl ripped through the night. It was ear-piercing and otherworldly, and it made the scales on the back of my neck crawl. I scrambled upright once more, my heart leaping into my throat, and wheeled towards the noise. It seemed to echo through the mountain peaks before it faded into silence, and I knew it was close.

That was no wolfish howl. Whatever it was, it sounded like nothing that belonged in this world. Something about it wasn't right. My scales prickled and I shot a look at the sleeping dragons. Ashebel's eyelids were shivering, as though she was either dreaming or waking up. I clenched my paws and backed to the edge of the overhang we'd taken shelter under.

If that scream had belonged to who I thought it did, now was my chance. Before either of them woke up I could find him and deal with him myself. He was still in the mountains, and he was close.

Without another thought, I whirled around and took wing with a fierce kick and a heavy flap. I soared into the cold night air without looking back, pointing myself towards where the sound had vaguely come from. I had to do this, and I had to be quick about it. If I hesitated, I could lose him again.

I squinted through the darkness at the crags of rock that rose towards the night sky all around me, and winced as another scream echoed through the air. It was even closer than before and I adjusted my course ever so slightly as I was able to pinpoint its location. My heart had set up a thundering rhythm and a mixture of exhilaration and trepidation shivered along my spine. It had to be him.

As another shelf of stone loomed out of the darkness, I caught sight of a figure standing on the rock, just barely visible in the gloom. If it hadn't been even darker than the night sky itself, I wouldn't have noticed it at all. Stifling a gasp, I dived out of the air and landed on the nearest slope, pressing myself against an outcrop of rock. My heart felt like it was trying to fly out of my chest.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I inched around the outcrop and peered towards the figure. The shelf of stone was empty and my chest clenched with fear. Then there was movement in the corner of my eye and I whipped my gaze towards it. A creature stood there in the moonlight on the opposite peak, swathed in shadows darker than even my obsidian scales. It had the vague shape of a dragon, though pieces of its body—or were they wisps of shadow?—seemed to peel away and dissipate in the night air as I watched.

It couldn't have been much larger than me. My breath caught in my throat as it turned and I at last caught a glimpse of its soulless eyes. They looked dead. They didn't glow like Dark Spyro's had, but they were dull white and empty in the glow of the moon, like the eyes of some dead creature brought back to life.

My stomach churned and I inched a little further around the outcrop, trying to get a better look. Was it him? Was it really Spyro? Had my search come to an end at last? But there was something _wrong_ about the creature that stood there in the night, and I just couldn't figure it out.

I took another step and loose chips of stone scattered around my talons. With a quiet hiss, I snatched my paw back and looked up. My heart stopped.

Those empty, dead eyes were now staring straight at me.


	32. Vivid

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**32  
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**Vivid**

For a moment, though it felt like forever, I was frozen to the spot, held prisoner under the empty gaze of the phantom's eyes. Voices screamed in my mind, some telling me to run, others urging me to try to reason with this creature that could be Spyro. But I could not comply with either. It was as though my body had turned to stone and my mind refused to process anything but the icy fear coursing through my veins.

The phantom seemed, at least for a split second, surprised to see me. Then a snarl curled its shadowy lips, revealing rows of ivory teeth stark against its black scales. All of a sudden, the urge to run overrode everything else and with a jolt like electricity I snapped back to my senses. But even as I turned to bolt, a shimmer of purple light caught the corner of my eye and the rock above me exploded.

The shriek that rose in my throat escaped as a strangled cry as the world exploded in a burst of stone debris and indigo light. Shards peppered my scales and I tried to reel away as the night seemed to crumble down around me, showering me in earthy darkness. My tail hit a wall and pain flared along my spine as I was crushed beneath a shower of rock and stone.

A lone howl pierced the night as darkness encased me.

With a gasp, I shot upright, clawing at the stone. As a cool wind brushed my cheek, my head began to clear and the blur of darkness in front of my eyes came back into focus. At first I could not make sense of what had happened. I was not trapped under an avalanche of rock, but my heart was hammering as though I had run a mile. Breathing heavily, I rubbed the dryness from my eyes and looked around.

There was no sign of the phantom. I was back under the overhang that Ashebel had chosen for our shelter that night. The red dragoness herself was sitting across from me against a wall of stone, gazing out into the night. As I stared, her gaze slipped across to me.

"Another nightmare?" she asked.

I mouthed wordlessly, my mind still whirring with all that had happened. I could not shake off the terrifying sensation of being buried in stone, and the phantom's white gaze was still vivid in my mind's eye. A nightmare? That couldn't have been a dream. It had felt so real.

Clenching and unclenching my paws against the stone, I scanned the nook we were in and at last noticed the absence of Firn. For some reason, that made my stomach clench with a sudden rush of fear. I shot a look at Ashebel, but she didn't look too worried.

"He went out to investigate something," she said, inclining her head towards the sky outside. "There were odd noises a little while ago. We think it might be the creature that attacked Stonegully still in the mountains, but it sounded far away. I'm sure we have nothing to worry about."

I shot a glance at the darkness outside, my head still reeling. Noises… They'd heard them too. Did that mean it hadn't been a dream? But that didn't explain how I'd gotten back there, unharmed and with no indication that I'd ever left. Maybe those noises had leeched into my dreams and caused that nightmare. The phantom had been nothing more than an apparition of my sleeping mind.

Licking my dry lips, I turned my head to ask Ashebel if she thought it was a good idea for Firn to be out there alone, but the sound of wing-beats stopped me. A shadow blocked out the glow of moonlight that had been streaming into our nook and I whipped my head back around in time to see Firn alight on the lip of stone. He folded his massive navy wings and stepped further under the overhang.

"Did you find anything?" Ashebel asked at once.

I stiffened and tried not to look too interested.

Firn shook his head. "No sign of whatever it is, but it sounded pretty far away last I heard it. There's no reason to worry. Let's just get some more sleep. We've got a long way to go tomorrow."

Ashebel nodded and curled up again without another word, but I stayed rigid and silent as Firn lay down at her side. I couldn't help but notice the sliver of space he left between them, as though he didn't want to touch her or didn't feel right to be closer.

He met my staring eyes before he laid his head down. "Did you hear it too?"

I hesitated—the nightmare or vision, whatever it was, was still fresh in my mind—and nodded.

Firn offered a kind of worried smile. "I'm sure it won't bother us. We'll be fine."

Of course he had no idea what my true worries were. Regardless, I tried to return his smile as I lay my head on my paws. While my companions drifted to sleep, I lay awake and stared out at the night, listening hard and waiting for a sign.

How could that have been a dream? It had been so vivid, so real. I couldn't figure out whether I felt relieved or disappointed to have woken up. For a moment I thought I'd found Spyro at last, if it had even been him. But it had been nothing more than a creation of my worried mind. Even if he was out there somewhere, he was far away and I didn't know if I could find him among the mountains at night, or even if it would be a good idea.

If he was as volatile as he had been in my dream, I would have to approach this with more caution. It would do no good to anyone if I got myself killed before Spyro even realised it was me.

Though I lay awake for what felt like hours, there was no more sign of the phantom. The night was silent and empty, as though all life had deserted the mountains and only I and my companions remained. When I finally fell asleep again, I had no more dreams.


	33. In the Distance

**33  
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**In the Distance**

A gusty wind howled through the mountain peaks, coaxing the alpine trees into a kind of rigid dance. It had blown away the cover of clouds that had cloaked the sky for two days, and we soared under the midday sun on the way to Sidian. Ashebel took the lead, her lithe form cutting through the air with enviable grace. I could feel Firn flying close to my tail, and it was hard to escape the feeling that I was being escorted like a prisoner.

Only that morning I realised I hadn't even told my new companions my name, but they'd never asked. Maybe they didn't want to know, or maybe they didn't care, but whatever the reason I felt a little grateful. Though everyone I'd met so far had found no recognition in my name, I could not shake the fear that someone would. Especially a dragon from the west, like Firn.

Despite the bitter wishes my mind formed in my darkest, loneliest moments, the memory of my past was one I still feared above all else. Only a few days ago I'd found myself wishing the world still saw me as _her_. How could I have wished for that? I wanted nothing more than to forget the Terror of the Skies, and I never wanted to be like her again. That was the mantra I continued to tell myself.

But it was far from the only thing on my mind.

While Ashebel and Firn flew in silence and seemed wholly focused on reaching our destination, I kept my senses open for any sign of the phantom. I didn't know what I'd do if I detected him, but I had to try. He was the sole reason I was heading for Sidian, after all, and if he was still in the mountains, there was no reason for me to leave. But how could I tell Ashebel and Firn that my true motive was to find the creature that had attacked their home?

They would try to stop me, I had no doubt. And I wasn't sure that I could fight back. I was small and frail in their shadows, like a hatchling, and if they wanted to stop me I had no doubt that they could.

I sighed and flapped a little higher, casting my gaze over the mountain slopes. There had been no sign of the phantom since last night, and we had left our campsite at the crack of dawn. No matter how hard I looked and listened, I found nothing that suggested he was even within the mountains. The disappointment was crushing, and as the edge of the mountain range drew closer, my spirits fell in tandem.

Near midday, Ashebel's flight pattern changed and she began to slow down as though looking for something. Eventually she glanced over her shoulder and called something over the wind that I didn't catch. Frowning, I flew a little closer and called out to her. "What is it?"

"Follow me!" she yelled, the wind almost whipping her words away.

With those words, she cut upwards and soared towards the peak ahead of us. I pounded my wings and flew after her, feeling Firn's heavy flaps close behind me. We cut through the sky, climbing higher and higher towards the very top of the mountains, and the air grew gradually colder. As we climbed higher, a great flat expanse of land became visible beyond the mountain peaks.

At last, Ashebel levelled out and alighted on the uneven slope at the edge of the peak, digging her talons into the loose rock. I angled towards her and landed slightly lower down, clenching my paws in a moment of panic as shale slide beneath my claws. As I steadied myself, Firn alighted at Ashebel's side, creating a gust of wind that almost forced me back into the air. I clung to the rocky slopes and closed my eyes until it passed.

There was a beat of silence and then Ashebel's voice called over the howling wind. "There's Sidian."

I forced my eyes open, my heart skipping a beat. Down far below the peak upon which we stood, a huge flat plain of brown and yellow spread across the earth towards the horizon, where it rose in smooth, shallow hills. Upon those hills was a sprawling network of buildings, walls, and strange tall constructs that rose towards the sky like giant trees. If I squinted, I could make out what looked like blades spinning endlessly upon the peaks of the constructs.

From this distance the buildings looked tiny, but they covered the distant hills without effort and a part of me wondered if it was even _bigger_ than Warfang. Yet there was none of the golden sandstone splendour, and it all looked strangely flat but for the tall constructs. They were like a sparse forest of oversized, too-straight trees growing upon the hills.

"That's Sidian?" I wondered aloud, climbing a little higher on the peak to get a better look.

"It might not be the most glamorous of dragon cities, but it's among the largest," Ashebel replied without taking her eyes off the distant city. "We should reach it by evening if we fly fast. The winds are strong over the plains; hopefully they're on our side."

"And if they're not?" I asked.

Ashebel gave a sort of wry smirk. "We might have to walk."

Without another word, she flared her wings out. I braced myself against the wind that battered my scales as she leapt from the peak and dove down towards the plains. I scrambled a little higher, slipping on the shale, and gazed down at her. Just before Firn jumped from the peak to dive after her, I noticed something. This was the first time I'd seen her from above, and it was startlingly obvious although I hadn't noticed it before. There, in the little hollow between her wings, was a marking of pitch black, as though ink had been spilt upon her scales.

A marking just like those I'd seen on the dragons at Earthridge.

For a moment I just stared, wondering if I could possibly be imagining it. I hadn't looked close enough at any other dragon to see if they had the same marks, and there was no telling what hid under Firn's bronze armour. My mind suddenly jumped back to Tunc, the wingless bronze dragon that had been Arid's companion, but I could not remember if I had ever noticed such a mark.

Was it possible that it was something more than a strange Earthridge tradition? Whatever it meant, perhaps Ashebel could provide answers.

I shook myself from my reverie and leapt from the peak, kicking loose shale free as I pounded the air and dived after my companions. The wind rushed past my face, slapping at my scales and forcing me to narrow my eyes. A sense of vertigo overcame me as the mountains became mere blurs of colour in the corner of my eyes and the ground seemed to rush up to meet me. The strangest urge to laugh rose in my chest and in that short, weightless moment, I suddenly felt free.

At the last moment, I snapped my wings out and pulled up through the burn in my back muscles, forcing my body into level flight. I wobbled dangerously and flapped a few times to steady myself before casting my eyes forward. Ashebel and Firn were soaring away from the base of the mountains, heading over the rocky terrain towards the flat plains beyond. I angled towards them and followed, but not before glancing one last time over my shoulder.

The mountains loomed over me, casting me into shadow, and I felt a twinge of guilt as I soared away from them. The phantom was in there somewhere, and I was flying away from it. I could only hope that it would follow, that somewhere inside it Spyro still existed, or else my journey to the east would have all been in vain.

Taking a deep breath, I looked away and soared after Ashebel and Firn. One way or another, I would find that phantom, but now was not the time. Sidian waited, just on the other side of those plains. My journey was almost at an end.


	34. Den

**34  
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**Den**

The trip across the plains was faster than I had anticipated. As Ashebel had hoped, the winds seemed to be on our side and they pushed us to flight speeds not often reached by dragons. I'd felt it before thanks to my control over the wind element, but never had I experienced natural wind speeds such as these. We skimmed over the earth with little effort, our claws almost brushing the dirt, as the distant hills grew closer by the second.

Whether it was my smaller stature, or just that I was more suited to flight than most dragons, I soon found myself pulling ahead of my companions. The wind whistled in my ears as I darted past Ashebel, almost skimming the tip of her wing with my own, and a thrill of exhilaration surged through me. I was faster than anyone. The wind and the sky were my element, and there I was in total control.

As we soared over the open plains, I was almost able to forget everything that had plagued me since I had awoken in the southern isles. Spyro, Warfang, the tainted crystals, this unknown land—they were all scattered from my mind and, at least for a little while, it was just me and the wind.

It ended too soon, or so it felt, as the sky began to turn orange as the sun sank behind us. The hills were so close that I could make out the intricacies of the sprawling city upon them and its forest of strange tall constructs. They looked even bigger up close. I angled my wings slightly to slow my pace and found it harder than usual with the pushing winds at my back. They seemed to want to slam me straight into the sloping hills.

Ashebel pulled up to my side, her eyes narrowed against the wind and her own wings working furiously to slow her progress. She gestured with her head towards the ground and I understood immediately. I clamped my wings to my side and dropped like a stone, pointing my nose towards the ground. It rushed up to meet me and I flared my wings out at the last second.

It was perhaps a beat too late, and the wind was little help as it tore my wings to the side and I landed heavily on all fours. Painful jolts lanced up my legs and I crouched low to the ground to escape the wind, wincing as the pain subsided. There was a heavy thud and then another as my two companions landed, and I glanced up to see them crouching just as I was, bracing themselves against the wind. It was a struggle to fold my wings back against my flanks.

"Come on!" Ashebel called over the whistling roar of the wind. "Just a little further."

She hunched her shoulders and turned towards the hills, only a few strides away. Firn lumbered to her side, keeping his head low, but his heavier form did not seem as hindered by the wind as Ashebel's did. I almost envied him as I struggled to keep up and still keep my paws on the ground. The wind threatened to throw me back into the air with every gust.

The ground sloped upwards gently at first, but as we climbed to the peak of the first hill my legs began to ache with every step. Squinting through the wind, I could see a round sandstone arch near the peak of the hill beyond, beckoning me almost enticingly in the sunset light. A low stone wall curved out from it on either side, dipping and rising gracefully with the hills as though it was a part of nature itself.

I was aching to lie down and give my legs a break by the time we reached the arch. Ashebel led the way through it onto a cobblestone street that wasn't quite as well made as Warfang's. The edges of the stones were rough and yellow grass poked through the gaps, but it was a far cry from the packed dirt streets of Earthridge.

Under the glow of the setting sun, the squat stone houses that lined the streets seemed to glow with a golden shimmer. Though the wind was still strong, I raised my head a little to admire the street laid out before me. A number of dragons were heading to and fro between buildings and side-streets, some carrying things in their mouths or between their wings.

A few noticed us and nodded in greeting, but no one approached. A tall yellow dragoness passed by with a woven basket in her mouth from which a delectable scent was emitting. I eyed the basket as she continued on her way, my mouth watering as my grumbling stomach reminded me I had yet to eat that day.

"Welcome to Sidian," Ashebel said, drawing my attention back to her. "Been a while, but I think the closest den is…this way."

I wasn't exactly sure what she meant by 'den', but I followed her regardless as she turned to the right and continued down a side-street. Firn followed in silence, and as we turned into the rows of houses, the wind lessened slightly. Relieved, I let my back muscles loosen and my wings relax. Wind may have been my favourite element, but I did not appreciate it in excess.

Ashebel led us through a few streets at a swift pace, her frown deepening with every moment. She doubled back twice and I was left wondering if she knew where she was going at all. Just as I was considering asking her if we should ask someone for directions, she halted abruptly out the front of a large, vaguely dome-shaped building.

"Got there eventually," she said as she approached the wooden door and pushed it open.

Warmth gushed from the open door, in stark contrast to the chill winds as it washed over my scales. I shivered and hurried after her, sighing with relief to be fully out of the wind at last. Even the smooth stone floor was warm beneath my paws. As Firn stepped in behind me and shut the door, I cast my gaze around the place.

It was a vaguely circular room built entirely from stone but for the door and the closed window shutters high on the walls. A large round fire pit, not unlike the one back at Ashebel's place in Stonegully, filled most of the centre of the room, and there were a few dragons gathered around it. A tall archway led off to the right into another room that I couldn't quite see, and a squat mole was sitting behind a low stone table to the left.

Behind him was another wooden door, but it was closed, and the desk was cluttered with all manner of objects—from papers to gems to little wooden ornaments. I stared at a thin wooden sculpture that looked like a miniature version of the tall constructs scattered all throughout this city.

The mole sat up straighter as we approached, smoothing out his sand-coloured tunic. "Welcome to the Windswept Wanderer's Den! Here to stay the night?"

While I stared bemusedly, Ashebel spoke without hesitation. "Yes, we've just travelled from Stonegully. Do you have a room?"

"Always a room for the weary traveller," said the mole, his high-pitched voice carrying in the otherwise silent room. "Head through the arch behind you and take your pick. The Daily Hunt is due back within the hour."

Ashebel thanked the mole and led us back past the blazing fire pit. I stumbled after her, my head ringing with unanswered questions. What was this place? A 'den', as far I knew, was a place where wild animals—or dragons—slept outside of civilisation. This didn't seem like a den at all, and I was left wondering if the word had a different meaning amongst dragons. The way Ashebel acted made it seem like it should have been common knowledge. Was this what dragon civilisation was like? It troubled me that I seemed to know so little.

The rest of the building seemed to be made up of a network of cave-like rooms, some of which were blocked off by heavy animal-skin curtains. Ashebel led us into one that wasn't blocked off, and closed the curtain behind us. It was a simple room, more like a cave than anything else, sort of round and made of stone, with a number of animal pelts stacked against the far wall and a shallow basin in the ground against the left wall filled with what seemed to be water.

It was all very rough and simple, as though we'd just walked into an uninhabited cave somewhere in the wild, and yet it was strangely welcoming.

"Home sweet home," said Ashebel.


End file.
